


BLOODBEAT

by q00zan



Category: HEARTBEAT (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood and Gore, Combat, F/F, Out of Character, Vampires, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-04-24 20:28:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19180807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/q00zan/pseuds/q00zan
Summary: Soulslum is infested. The planet oozes suffering as violent and hungry Ghouls live there along with persistent and hopeful Bastards. Sometimes, the "civilized" are cursed with bearing a special child — a Leech capable of pacting with a Ghoul.Eve Staccato. the Leech of Duskwich, just wanted to live her whole life protecting the little town. Violent gods of fate had other plans.





	1. THE USUAL FILTH

**Author's Note:**

> I've been waiting a long time to write this. I'm looking to create a very cool, flashy, violent story full of unexpected changes made to character. The main goal is to amplify everything to be as violent, horrifying (or horrible) as possible, even borderline disgusting in some parts. It may get ridiculous and even unintentionally funny sometimes, or uncomfortable, but that's exactly what I was going for in this fic.  
> Enormous thanks to Sava (check out her Twitter: @batcannon) for drawing wonderful illustrations for this chapter. Fantastic work.
> 
> WARNING! PLEASE NOTE THAT:  
> \- This fanfic takes place in an alternate universe. It also either warped or amplified characters' personalities in certain ways.  
> \- This fanfic is loosely based on the game's storyline at first, perhaps branching out much more later into its own thing.  
> \- It contains graphic depictions of violence, possible character death, rather disturbing descriptions of all events.  
> Reader discretion is advised.  
> Thank you very much for reading and feel free to comment!

In the dark of the night, malicious shadows were creeping all around, created by the monotone moonlight, indifferent to the horrors of the later times on the regressive planet Soulslum. We’re in a dim, candle-lit house. Someone was sleeping on the bed, lying down straight, almost unmoving. One would think they’re already a goner. Yet.

An alarm clock rang nearby. It looked quite pretty, although somewhat worn and old. The worst thing about it was the sound - it sure didn’t fill the room with an upbeat ring, similar to a bird’s happy singing in the morning. It sounded like a drowning fire alarm through an intercom, ripping eardrums and scarring those who heard it forever. Luckily, Eve Staccato - that’s the one who looked so dead on top of her bed - was used to it. This truly disgusting alarm clock was a relic of the past, and her best companion in waking up right on schedule.

She groans loudly, and shoves the clock off a set of drawers, making it hit the ground violently and shut up. It was sturdy. All was sturdy back in the days. So was she, and her partner - Klein Gremory.

“Have you slept well, darling? Anyone troubled you in your dreams?” the Ghoul asked, crawling from under the bed. She was a somewhat massive - compared to Staccato - woman in a ridiculously large fur coat. Two cat ears were growing from the top of her head - all battered, scarred, even missing some bits, with emerald-green fur growing on the inside. Her two eyes pierced Eve, they were two pitch black holes with a shining green circle floating within each one, flickering, moving.

“You know I don’t dream,” Eve answered, getting up from bed and almost hitting Klein with her feet by accident - she didn’t seem to care that much. The young woman looked around her room for the rest of her clothes.

“Ah, yes, of course. We don’t dream. Not even when we’re awake. For in this world, dreams are all broken before they can fester in our mind, corrupting it…” Klein recited, getting up from the floor finally. Her two tails swung from side to side, excited for tonight’s outing with her Leech. Although, Eve usually didn’t enjoy that particular term.

“Whatever. Where’s my fucking jacket?” Staccato grumbled, kicking a bunch of things in her room angrily. It was all a mess, and she never bothered to clean up. After all, it’d all end up the same way eventually.

“Ah, what a naughty little jacket. I know where it’s hiding from you, my dear. Let me fetch it for you, right this instant!” Klein sang in a soothing, although somewhat raspy voice, clicking her sharp teeth as she tiptoed to a wardrobe.

“The fuck? My jacket’s nice,” Eve whispered, almost enraged.

“Now, now, it was just a way to… say it. Don’t worry. Here you go. Please, your arms?” Gremory said, bringing it over to Eve, who listened and leaned a bit forward, then extended her arms back towards her Ghoul. Klein carefully slid the jacket on Eve and made sure it sat well on her.

It was a fine, thick grey leather jacket, so long it almost reached her feet, some bits of it apparently patched up with either lighter or darker shades. Its collar was standing up tall around Eve’s neck and cheeks, a bit leaning to sides, exposing the dark red fabric on the inside. Staccato fixed it, groaning, brushed some dust off a grey shirt she wore underneath - with a star drawn on it, coloured like it was stained with blood, but dark, long dried. Eve squatted to tie laces on her heavy-looking boots, then tucked her somewhat plain-looking black trousers in.

“Where’s my damn weapon?”

“Oh, but your grandpatriarch took it during the day, to polish it again, I suppose!” Klein said, watching Eve closely, her eyes shaking with excitement. Her mad love for her Leech wasn’t a secret to anyone, yet it usually manifested as unrequited. But she was fine with that.

“That old fuck. I told him. I told him not to. It looks better when coated in blood of Bastards, Mad Ghouls and all. And it was a week’s worth on it, too…” she hissed through her teeth, and got so enraged she punched an old mirror standing in her room, cracking and breaking it. Eve picked up a shard and held it tightly in her hand, almost piercing through her own skin. The mirror was irrelevant - she couldn’t see herself in it anyway. The grandfather needed a lesson taught, though.

 

Downstairs, old Liang was working on another shipment of pastry. It was a ridiculous, dementia-driven hobby that the weakened man got himself, just to keep the last bits of his sanity and do at least something in the world. He did indeed sometimes go out of his way to annoy his granddaughter a great deal by misplacing her things, cleaning her room, polishing her weapon. After all, he wasn’t quite wrong - that spear-staff, cut and shaped from a solid piece of an unknown steel - it wasn’t appraised or identified by any master because no one bothered to ask - was a relic passed on from his mother, who was also a Leech.

Eve rushed downstairs and soon was on the ground floor. She noticed her grandfather immediately, raised the hand with the shard of glass and threw it forward, aiming for Liang’s head. Luckily, he was always prepared - a mechanical ro-bit hand caught it. In fact, the old man couldn’t move on his own, so he was strapped in a horrendous ro-bit amalgamation of at least four machines that drove him around the house, helped him climb the stairs, and also do any sort of work. They also were good at deflecting all hospitable advanced from his granddaughter.

“Ah, Eve!” he got out, before falling into a coughing fit. “You’re awake. Good. It’s a wonderful night outside. How about you bring this shipment to the Scumburg Scrapmart?” Liang asked, pointing at a bunch of unappetizing-looking cakes, a couple of them moldy - somehow.

Eve looked down at the dark, stained wooden floor. It was creaking with each step they took.

“Old man, how many times do I need…” she was about to say, before Klein grabbed her shoulders from the back and gave her a kiss on the back of the head. She whispered…

“Don’t. Leave him be. Let’s bring it over there, just like any time. We’ll get to be together. Perhaps, find some easy prey?”

“Unhinged, stupid bag of fur. Get your paws off me. And yes. We shall go, then. Where’s my fucking spear, old man?” Eve said sternly.

“In the umbrella stand. Be careful on your way to Scumburg!

“Whatever. Klein, get my snack and my MP3,” eve said, disinterested, as she walked over to the umbrella stand and pulled her spear-staff out of it, knocking the whole thing over. The weapon looked clean, and it disappointed Staccato greatly. Then again, she could start working on its image once again.

Soon enough, Klein was ready with Eve’s belongings, she also carried a bag with the cakes shipment. Eve kicked the door open and went outside, followed by her loyal Ghoul.

The depth of the night. All sorts of ugly creatures roaming the darkest, deepest bushes around this little settlement, hoping for the simple Bastards to leave their homes, fall victim to their traps, become easy prey. Yet, to the disgusting creeps’ disappointment, they only saw the town’s Leech and her Ghoul enter the world of blinding, horrifying darkness. Old houses, ruined roads, dead gardens. Eve looked at it all, and felt nothing. Just cold heartbeat. She stretched her arms a bit.

“Klein, my snack.”

The Ghoul immediately followed the command, and handed her Leech a fine-looking baked bun, with a somewhat red tint to it.

“My MP3. Move it.”

“As you wish, my love,” Gremory said, pulling out a quite old MP3 player, with mechanical buttons on it. She carefully slipped it into Eve’s jacket pocket, then put the earphones into the young woman’s ears. The cat sith couldn’t resist, and rubbed her Leech behind the two cute little ears just for a bit, almost drooling. Eve didn’t actually mind it, but she couldn’t let it slide.

“Get your fucking disgusting paws off me. And thanks,” she growled, taking a bite of the bun. Metallic taste. The good taste. Grandfather knew how to make her happy, sometimes, despite his inescapable madness. Staccato pressed a couple of buttons on the MP3 player and enjoyed her favourite song, as she walked down a rotten, destroyed path. They were heading towards Corpsewood, a forest leading to Scumburg.

 

It was a rather energetic song, with lyrics you could barely make out of the amount of horrors the band was creating with the instruments.

 

_ “ **HUNDRED THOUSAND STOPPED HEARTS** _

**_COME HOME A HERO, SING THE SLAYER’S SONG_ **

**_BURY THE DREAMS, MASTER MURDER ARTS_ **

**_MY HEART IS COLD YOU WON’T LIVE LONG_ **

 

**_DECEIVERS AND TRUTHSAYERS CURSES UPON YOU_ **

**_SINCE I WAS BORN I LIVED BY MY RULE AND MY TRUTH_ **

**_I PUT MY SOUL IN A BIG STRONG CAGE_ **

**_TO KEEP IT FROM EXTINGUISHING MY RAGE_ **

 

**_LEARN FROM MY MISTAKES AND FUCK WITH ME NO MORE_ **

**_I WILL SLICE AND DICE YOU UP TO FIT YOU IN A BOX_ **

**_LET GO OF YOUR MIND AND EJECT THE FEELING_ **

**_WHEN YOU’RE ALL BLOODY I FIND YOU APPEALING...”_ **

 

Klein walked behind her Leech, staring at the back of her head, hearing some of the music roar through the earphones. She was happy to see her beloved Eve enjoy a little song as they took a walk through the woods.

Eve’s face was like a concrete slab. Solid. Emotionless. Featureless. They slowly entered Corpsewood. The smell here was quite foul, death lingering around in each shadow, rotten leaves falling off trees, toxic dust carried around by nasty winds. Up ahead, both of them already could spot a small cluster of Mad Ghouls. They were starving, and seemed even more enraged than usual - attacking one of their own. Soon enough, they’d smell the two women come over, and prepared to attack.

Syncing her movement to the song she’s been listening to, Eve grasped her spear and made several quick steps forward and extended her arm forward, letting the weapon slide towards the enemy, all the way until it pierced the angry Ghoul’s eye, making it screech and shake. She quickly got ahold of the spear-staff again, and pulled it back, the eye sticking to the tip.

“Heh. Nice,” she muttered, even cracking a little smirk.

The other Ghouls were rightfully infuriated by that, and prepared to attack, yet the Leech did not move. She knew what was about to happen.

“Fear not, my dear, my love! I shall protect you. I shall trample these maggots into the ground, I will turn this scum into dust. In your name, I shall…” she was saying, but took a moment to draw her weapon - a sharp-looking rapier with one side jagged, sharp metal teeth pointing upwards. It looked almost ridiculously posh and polished, but it was as sharp as it could get - she struck once and cut through half of a Mad Ghoul’s body, ripping it all open, “I shall remove these!”

With each strike, she took one, and another, and another down, laughing and almost dancing on the forest path, kicking up foul dust with her feet. The Leech watched, deep in thought. There was no end to those Mad Ghouls. They kept coming, and it was quite alarming. Usually, the beasts would stop and retreat as soon as some of their brethren had their guts spread all over rotten grass.

“Klein, next to me, now!” Eve said, taking a defensive stance, sticking the spear-staff forward, ready to stab through any Ghoul coming her way. Loyal Gremory hurried to her side and stood firm, although still smiling with joy from the battle

They had to fight off quite a bit of the nasty creatures, who kept crawling and crawling towards them, jumping atop the corpse pile forming in front of the two women, climbing it and leaping down at their tough prey. One thing Eve was happy about - her great-grandmother’s spear-staff finally was coated in blood and other foul liquids from the Ghoul bodies. Yet, the battle was getting rather tiring, and the onslaught almost pushed the two of them back to the very beginning of the path through Corpsewood.

 

Yet, they heard the bodies break in the distance. With each hit, at least four of the Mad Ghouls fell dead, bones breaking, flesh cut clean in half. Someone was coming, attacking them from behind - perhaps they heard the commotion and decided to help. Which was rare.

They saw an older, smaller woman slowly slashing, slicing through the Ghoul crowd with a large two-handed sword that was - seemingly so - at least twice as big as its wielder.

“Begone! Begone! Off with you! And stay down!” she roared at the Ghouls, destroying any single one in her path. Surely, this time they all fled, realizing the battle was definitely not going in their favour. The old woman did it. Breathing heavily she walked forward, the large sword’s end drawing a line in the sticky ground as she headed towards Eve and Klein.

“Now, who do we have here… Are you the noble Leech of Duskwich I’ve heard of?” she asked, shoving the sword down into the ground and resting her hands on it, leaning on it even.

She seemed very, very old, perhaps even drier and tinier with age, more than Liang. She had leather goggles strapped over her eyes, pale pink hair tied in a large tail behind her back. She also apparently carried an enormous backpack filled with who-knows-what, perhaps to balance out when she’s swinging the humongous sword around. The more Eve looked at her, the more she noticed - a mechanical right leg and arm, a somewhat comfortable-looking, but worn and old sweater coloured green, black and pink. On the old woman’s shoulder sat a very angry-looking, but tiny creature which looked like a poofy, gold and black rat with large front teeth. Its eyes were twitching all the time, and the nose kept trembling, as if she was passively trying to sense something in the air, or see something. Without a doubt, it was the stranger’s Ghoul.

“I am. Are you some random old woman I’m somehow supposed to know?” Eve asked, sticking her spear into the ground and holding onto it.

Klein seemed a bit upset her Leech treated the stranger that way.

“Eve, she helped us. We’re thankful, o beautiful lady,” Gremory said, putting her hand on her chest, and bowing a little.

“Save the pleasantries. I know there’s a Leech, I wasn’t told she had a desperate familiar following her around…” the old woman grumbled.

“Hey, shut the fuck up. Klein is my only, and best Ghoul,” Eve said, tightening her grip on the spear-staff.

“Ah? What?”

“Are you deaf? I said shut the fuck up, stinky hag. You probably have days left before dissolving into dust, how about I speed it up for you?” Eve growled, then spat on the ground in front of the old Leech.

“I’m sorry, my hearing isn’t good. I think my goggles broke, too, I can’t… Well. Never mind. My name’s Choi. I just moved into Corona Woods, heard this place was quite good for health.”

“If you wanna die sooner, yeah. Also, Corona Woods? Which century are you from? Have you been living under a rock after the meteor offed all of your large lizard friends?” Staccato didn’t give up with her insults, definitely not enjoying the old Leech’s company.

“Ha-ha, but of course. You’re all so busy. There’s one thing, though, I found this little creature in the woods recently, and it’s nothing like the Ghouls I’ve seen before…” she was saying, before she got interrupted.

“I don’t give a shit. Good luck. Let’s go, Klein,” the young Leech said, grabbed her spear-staff, kicked some dead Ghoul bodies out of her way - they made most disgusting sounds, rolling away. She walked past Choi, bumping into her slightly, and scoffing. She just heard something squeak and gargle inside the old woman’s backpack, but didn’t pay attention.

Klein followed Staccato, but first said her goodbyes to the old woman, being all pleasant, hoping the image of her lovely Leech wouldn’t be hurt. In the eyes of who?

All that watched were mere beasts. The world was dim, and empty.

 

Or, perhaps, not empty enough. Some still walked these damned grounds, perhaps only because they were just as rotten. Or naive.

“Oh, baby! A Ghoul! Would you look at that! Come here, you!” a voice somewhere deeper in the disgusting woods was heard, echoing.

Eve looked back at Klein, as if expecting something.

“My love, I don’t know who that may be. But if they intend to hurt you, I will protect you… With my life,” Gremory said, smirking.

“Don’t you have, like, nine? Your life’s value - not much. Whatever. Keep moving those legs. You’re trailing behind,” Eve responded, monotone, although a little glitter danced in her green eyes. She loved talking to her Ghoul, and teasing her.

They kept walking, quick pace, stomping on burnt rocks, foul leaves and rotten bony remains of whoever, or whatever. They got to a gloomy clearing with a little lake, oozing filth, piles of mud encircling it. Next to it, a woman stood, cackling as she held a little Ghoul offspring in her left hand. In the other, she gripped a camera, so close to the creature’s face it was almost squishing it. From time to time, the camera emitted a violently bright flash, perhaps blinding the Ghoul, yet allowing the unhinged woman take quite peculiar pictures of it.

“Give me passion! Show me love! Yes! Yes, my little darling… I said - hold fucking still you vermin, you fucking pest, let me take a photograph! Hold still!” she spoke, soothing at first, unbearable aggressive at the end, almost demonic.

“It’s just a troubled Bastard, no doubt about it, Eve. Let’s keep going…” Klein said, carefully leaning onto her beloved from behind.

“No. She reeks of Leech. Weak Leech. Look at her… Doing this…” Eve muttered, gripping her spear-staff and spinning it a couple of times before sticking it into the ground loudly, piercing through an old rock. She spoke louder, “Hey, you! What do you think you’re doing, torturing that thing?”

“Torturing? What? Who’s there… Oh! No, no, I’m just trying to take some pictures of this cute baby…”

“If you want to kill it, then kill it, don’t make it suffer, you stupid piece of shit. Let it go now, or I’ll carve some holes in your body, Leech scum,” Eve threatened the woman, dragging the spear-staff out of the ground and pointing it at the stranger.

She let the baby Ghoul go, although very disappointed - her face got all twisted in the most displeased grimace.

“Well… Thanks for ruining the fun, bitch,” she dragged, putting her hands on her hips. She seemed young, and was dressed in rather shady, featureless clothing, perhaps to camouflage herself before catching her photo-prey. She had a large camera hanging off her neck on a strap, and a pair of sunglasses covering her eyes. The woman clenched her hands into fists - they were covered by large, thick gloves, probably used to keep Ghouls stable when caught and avoid injury. In fact, all of her arms seemed reinforced and protected with leather and metal scraps. Upon closer look, her face seemed rather scarred - it wasn’t surprising, Mad Ghouls never like interactions as weird as an unwilling photo session.

“I don’t care. Where are you from?”

“From Scumburg. Don’t you know me? I’m a Ghoul expert. I know all about them!” the young woman claimed, proud of herself.

“You definitely don’t know enough not to fuck with them, like some sort of sadist. Why don’t you get one and learn some responsibility?”

“Well… Look at you. You’re all covered in their blood.”

“It’s called mercy.”

“Ha-ha, whatever you say, little girl. And by the way - it’s hard to find a fine Ghoul around here, these are only good for studying. They don’t wanna pact anyway…” she said, a visibly upset.

“We sincerely hope you find a Ghoul that would pact with you, and we hope you will learn from your mistakes, madam,” Klein said, closing her eyes and smiling.

“What my cat sith wanted to convey here is: don’t fuck with us. Go get a job,” Eve clarified, and almost began walking off.

“Oh, a cat sith? How pretty… Do you mind if I take some pictures of her? In her Bastard form, even… Ah.”

“Fuck off, weirdo. I don’t want you beating it to her pictures. Klein is an experienced and exceptionally trained and disciplined Ghoul, far too important to be fawned over by the likes of you,” Staccato said, and took several steps back to grab her Ghoul by the hand.

Klein felt her head spinning, and heart beating very, very fast. To hear something like that from her Leech was like a breath of fresh air - so rare on Soulslum, or a sip of finest drink, or even an orgasm - it felt incredible to her. She could barely breathe, but managed to follow Eve as they left the odd woman alone.

“Come visit my place if you change your mind and need some cash!” they heard from the back. Eve was about to turn around and lash out, but was stopped by Klein.

“Thank you for standing up for me.”

“... Whatever, furbag.”

 

On their way further to Scumburg, they noticed a peculiar trail in the mud under their feet. As if someone was dragging an enormous bag with them, or perhaps someone’s body. Eve smiled just a little bit, looking at it. Klein took notice of that, and couldn’t miss the chance to ask:

“What’s on your mind, my dearest Leech?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, housecat.”

“But please, I would!”

“I just thought. Maybe it’s Blessed Clause. Carrying bag of presents. That’d be funny. It’s not even the Season of Cold yet… Ha,” Eve muttered, still walking, looking down at the trail.

“Ah, but you do still believe in Blessed Clause? How peculiar…”

“What do you mean believe? He’s real. Are you stupid?” Eve stopped in her tracks and looked back at the cat sith. She was as serious as she could get. Klein felt cold sweat running down her back.

“B-but of course! Of course he’s real. He even brought presents to me, when I was little!”

“I wish I was still little.”

It felt weird, but they both moved on. For a moment, it seemed as if the forest itself drew its nasty, disgusting claws of dead trees and rotting tall grass away from them, to let their minds rest. Then, it was all back to normal. Or what they thought was normal.

Later on, almost reaching Scumburg, they saw a rather shabby looking hut with a brightly painted sign on it, saying something about a grand reopening.

“A reopening? I don’t remember it being open, ever.”

“Will be closed soon, just wait til the Mads find their way here. What a joke,” Eve concluded, as she took Klein by the arm again and dragged her faster towards the town. They passed two more poisonous lakes, filled to the brim with odd-looking fish, all watching as they passed. A bridge over smoke-covered water, no doubt even more horrifying than the awful lakes in Corpsewood, took them to the fine little town of Scumburg. Bastards lived here quite well and secure, and as it turned out - they even had a Leech, although obviously incompetent and too weak to protect them. The Bastards of Scumburg had the city encircled with violent, rough-looking metal fences, and quite a handful of the population worked as its guardians. They weren’t dumb either, and resorted to using modern weaponry that was cherished and passed on and on from one person to another - some of these firearms, perhaps, were traded for other things long time ago. Back when Scumburg still had a variety of things to offer.

One of the guards lifted a visor of his helmet and welcomed Klein and Eve inside. They knew them, although had to take a close look first to make sure they weren’t disguised Tanuki Ghouls. Despite a lot of them being Mad ones, they still were cunning.

“Welcome back, Eve. Another shipment?”

“Obviously. Otherwise I wouldn’t drag my ass all the way here… Nah, I lie. I have to do rounds around here anyway. Not that your Leech can do anything about it…” Eve said, in a vile way, enjoying as she insulted the woman they’ve seen before.

“To be perfectly honest, we don’t really like her either, but she pays her taxes, so…”

“Whatever. I’ll go now.”

 

Klein and Eve stood in front of a ruined building. A fireplace was burning in front of it inside a barrel, with some people standing next to it, talking to each other and cooking some meat on sticks. Inside the building, a faint candlelight was shaking, someone perhaps taking shelter. Long ago, this place was apparently called the Scumburg Scrapmart. Too bad it had been this way even before Eve was born. She took the bag with cakes from Klein and hurled it into the fire barrel, surprising the Bastards around it.

“Just adding some fuel. Have a nice meal…” she whispered, and walked away. Klein tiptoed behind her, feeling worried for her Leech. Eve then stopped and turned around just a bit, “Cigarette.”

Gremory hurried and searched through all the pockets she had in her large coat, and eventually found a pack of Heartstoppers, then extended it towards Eve, shaking it a bit to let the cap move off, then flicking the bottom to make one of the cigarettes stick upwards among the rest. Eve leaned in and grabbed it with her teeth.

“Lighter.”

Klein put the pack away and searched again, nervously, almost sweating, for a lighter. As soon as she found the one, she brought it up to Eve’s face and, with hands trembling, managed to light up the cigarette, chuckling, happy. Her Leech stared at her, watching carefully, taking a big drag, then exhaling into the Ghoul’s face. It smelled foul, but familiar. Gremory was used to it.

“Come here,” Eve said, putting her free hand on the back of Klein’s neck and pulling her in closer, to give her a deep, demanding kiss on the lips, almost making the cat sith melt on the inside, and on the outside. “You’re good. Do you wanna stay here a bit or something?”

“Whatever you want, my lovely Eve…”

“No, I’m asking what you want, you spineless mess.”

“... I want to stay a bit longer with you, like this.”

Eve dragged her away into the dark near some random house in the town, holding Klein’s hand tightly. She took another drag of the cigarette, and pushed her Ghoul towards a wall, leaned closer to her neck.

“I-is it that time, again?”

“Yes. Stay still.”

Eve held the cigarette away for a bit in one hand, and used another to grab onto Klein’s collar and pull it down enough to expose her neck. She leaned in and gave it a big, nasty lick, savouring her taste, and making the cat sith squirm with pleasure. Soon enough, she teased it with her sharp teeth, and then sank her fangs into it - it made the usual sharp, distinctive sound as the Leech drank her noble Ghoul’s blood, growing stronger with each greedy gulp of it.

 

Above Scumburg, a solemn moon watched over the horrors, indifferent to feelings, oblivious, uncaring, too busy floating in space. Yet, it was about to witness a story it’s never seen before. Nor has anyone on Soulslum.


	2. DISHONOURED AND HUNTED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for tuning in for another chapter of this fic! It's really fun to write, but at times very tough, too. Can't say how many chapters this will take.  
> It's a bit harsh, so I probably would work on something else at the same time, so as not to torture everyone with this for too long without a change! Maybe!  
> Hope you enjoy the read.

Scumburg. These Bastards knew how to survive. Or, at the very least, they thought they knew - in reality, there wasn’t a standard to living here. Everyone held onto the strings of their existence as much as they could. Even in a world consumed by despair, filth, blood - there were reasons to still breathe. Of course, it didn’t mean everyone was like that. A lot of Bastards took their own lives back in the days, and now the survivors and descendants of those who couldn’t carry on anymore remain on Soulslum, living just to annoy and enrage whoever hoped they’d be dead. Bastards refused to go extinct.

Eve wiped her mouth with her sleeve, taking a deep breath. Her eyes shone bright for a moment as she processed the Ghoul’s blood. A noble monster was far more valuable than a Bastard, even in quality of the red fluid. She held Klein tightly and gave her another long, deep kiss, although not perverse - just quite passionate. It made the cat sith feel so dizzy she could barely follow her Leech out of the alley.

“Don’t you fucking go in there! Go away, lil’ shit! Fuck off, you, get it? Fuck off! Go away!” a bulkier guardian was yelling at a child.

“Shut up, big dumb idiot!” the small one retaliated, but gave up in the end, sulking and muttering to herself. She bumped into Eve, not paying attention to where she was going.

“That Bastard was bullying you or something?” the Leech of Duskwich asked her. Klein was right behind her, looking at the child over Staccato’s shoulder.

“It’s- there’s a Ghoul infestation in the tunnels… We used those to go to Aeroz Plaz, but now it’s full of evil Ghouls. I said I was going to help them clear it, but everyone in this town is a coward! I wish… I wish…” the child was rambling for a while. She then noticed something about Eve, “You’re a Leech, aren’t you? I wanna grow up and become a strong Leech too. I’ll kill everyone. Like, everyone.”

Staccato scowled.

“Stupid child. You cannot become a Leech. You are either born a Leech, or born a Bastard. Deal with it. Why don’t you steal that man’s rifle while he sleeps, then shoot him in the head? See a living thing die by your own hand. Take his honest job. Think you’ll do better? Think you won’t be torn apart, and then two Bastards will roam this planet no more?” Eve was explaining, sternly, as cold and direct as possible, staring into the little girl’s eyes, grabbing her by the shoulders so hard it almost hurt - but the Bastard child endured all of it bravely.

At some point, Klein wanted to intervene, but was conflicted whether her Leech would appreciate her insight or punish her for interfering.

“I-I’m sorry. I just got very sad. We had friends in Aeroz Plaz. And the boatmen died last week. I’m sorry, ma’am. But what do I do?”

Eve was silent for a while. She could scold the little girl, but really knew nothing about this life other than using her Leech powers to get rid of any problem imaginable. She was cursed, but she was also cursed to never know how a Bastard lives.

“... Fuck off. Talk to my cat instead. I’m gonna smoke,” Staccato said, removing her hands from the child’s shoulders and walking away, right after grabbing the pack of cigarettes and a lighter from Klein.

“I’m sorry you were yelled at by my most noble and respected Leech, young one. Although I must say, you are quite lucky she didn’t kill you. In fact, you are extremely blessed today, for she herself put you on the right path…” Gremory said, squatting in front of the girl to be on the same level with her, and taking her hands gently. “She may seem furious, but I’m sure I could get her to help your town. I promise. For now, I beg you, stay safe, eat a lot, and put your life above the life of others, yet politely.”

“I don’t really understand, but alright. But you promise you will kill all the Ghouls down there in the tunnels?” the girl asked again, smiling, as if she had already gotten the final answer.

“I suppose.”

“Is that a yes?”

“I’d assume it is.”

“So… yes?”

“Count that as a yes.”

“Are all Ghouls so cunning they can’t give a proper answer, or is that just you?” the girl suddenly asked, a serious expression on her face.

Klein was dumbfounded, but not for long.

“Go… Play with the trash, or something. Expect us later, clever young one.”

 

Displeased, the Ghoul returned to her Leech.

“Took you long enough, mama cat,” Eve jokingly said to her.

“This wretched world rips the innocence out of us at birth…” Klein wondered out loud, following Staccato, who was heading out of town already.

“Whatever. Why don’t you write a book about it,” the Leech said, flicking her still burning cigarette away. One of the younger Bastards dropped to the ground and picked it up, then greedily took drag after drag from it, until it was all burnt out.

“Perhaps, some day, my lovely one…”

The guardians let them through the gate out of Scumburg. The two were finally going home after this rather pointless journey. Yet, as they dwelled deeper into Corpsewood, searching for familiar trails that would bring them home, they heard a familiar voice.

“Oh baby! Fuck yes! Ya-ho-ho-ho-hau! Show me some love…”

Eve tensed up immediately, gripping her spear-staff. Klein watched her carefully, hoping her Leech wouldn’t make any rushed decisions at this time. The deeper the night, the more dangerous it all got. The fight they had before with the pack of Ghouls was a fine example, although it did seem even a bit overboard.

They snuck through the bushes along the beaten forest road. Up ahead, something they had never seen before took place.

That pathetic Leech from Scumburg was standing near a wounded Ghoul - and not just some forest roamer, it was a Cerberus, so large it could probably trample the young woman to death - had it not been apparently wounded. It had a large hole in its chest, which was slowly killing the Ghoul.

“What in the blazes… That is a Cerberus!” Klein said, shuddering. She instinctively hid behind Eve’s back, at first, despite her usual interest in protecting the Leech.

“Yeah, I’m not blind.”

“No, what I mean is, my dear, the Cerberus isn’t native to this forsaken land… That is a Ghoul from the Pit. The last resort of Ghoul civilization… The fabled land…”

“Alright, so what you’re trying to say, that one’s about as noble as you?” Eve wanted to clarify.

“Well… Perhaps, not as noble as I am. Not many Ghouls have the honours to…” Klein was saying. She got interrupted by her Leech quite soon.

“Alright, shut up.”

The frightening woman ran around the cerberus, taking picture after picture with her camera, blinding the Ghoul with the bright flash again and again. The dying monster was begging for her help, and at some point, when the maniac stopped screaming in pleasure, she actually heard the call. For some short while, there was silence, as the photographer was talking to the dying cerberus. Soon enough, the air around them all changed. An ancient knowledge remembered, a sacred, most pure ritual was conducted.

“Would you… June Sanjo… Form the most treacherous yet courageous pact with me, Troz Naberius… To unite us all, once and for all… For with all else gone, all that remains is connection…” the cerberus quietly muttered, its three bloodied heads spinning, twitching and gasping for air.

“Hell fucking yeah I sure do, girl! Come on, quick, I wanna take pics of you in a more presentable state!” the Leech of Scumburg was saying, laughing to herself.

“The sacred act… Bastardized…” Klein whispered in shock.

“I’m fucking done watching this circus,” Eve said, determined, as she left the bush, pointing the spear-staff forward. “What did I tell you about fucking around with Ghouls, you scum-eating maggot?!”

At that moment, a bright flash of golden light blinded all of them, pressing grass and bushes to the muddy ground, tilting the dead and withering trees, breaking some of their branches. A fresh breath of wind that was so alien, yet so familiar and fulfilling.

Suddenly, the massive cerberus was perfectly healed, yet her newfound Leech seemed rather pale, holding onto her own shoulders, bent forward and shaking. The pact took its toll on the young woman, in return saving the dying Ghoul.

 

All three heads of the enormous Ghoul spoke, one after another, expressing their collective thought in various forms.

“I’m… Alive?” said the one that seemed rather troubled.

“You saved me, thank you,” the calm one thanked the Leech.

“It’s time to finish the job,” the enraged, determined one stated.

As it was about to waddle away, it bumped into both Staccato and Sanjo, the two Leeches quite seemed quite disturbed, although had different thoughts on the matter to share.

“What do you mean! We made a pact! You owe me so many pictures you won’t leave the grasp of my viewfinder til’ tomorrow, you bratty mutt!” June protested.

“Who the fuck are you and where the fuck are you going, again?” Eve wished to clarify.

In between them, Klein stepped through, gently pushing both of the young women to the sides, although dropping a quiet “Sorry, my love” in Eve’s direction as she did so.

“Noble cerberus! Recognize, as one of the Pit’s finest speaks to you now,” Klein began talking, quite loudly, looking up at the large Ghoul, “How come a guardian such as yourself finds yourself in such pitiful world for… yourself… to be?”

All of Troz’s heads squinted, looking at the cat sith’s Bastard form. She took several deep breaths through her noses, sniffing, trying to understand.

“How come this noble cat sith was exiled to the Bastard realm?” the worried head was concerned.

“Who are you to be asking the questions?” the content head asked back.

“I curse all of your lineage, cat sith, if you dare fool me,” the furious head warned her.

Klein stood still, processing all of the messages.

“O, noble cerberus, would you be so merciful to assume a form most appropriate for the Bastard realm, so as to disguise yourself in danger, and remain coherent?”

 

The large Ghoul growled, before another flash of light blinded all of them again, the stranger turning into her Bastard form. The cerberus turned into a rather stocky young woman, dressed in a grey uniform with pale green buttons and belt with a dark red buckle that looked like a hound’s head. Green epaulettes, apparently, indicated some sort of guardian rank on her shoulders. The wide circle of the collar held three necks within, growing upwards, with a full head on top of each - just as they were in the Ghoul form. Dark brown hair, big stern eyebrows, and a suspicious, squinty expression most of times. She looked down at herself, with all of her eyes, then fixed the white gloves on her hands. Her middle head, the calm one, spoke up.

“Well, noble cat sith.”

“By my ancestors’ honours, I’ve never been… So… Aroused… In my entire life…” June was gasping for air, before getting interrupted by Eve, who mercilessly shoved the blunt end of her spear-staff into Sanjo’s side, making her fall over for now and keep quiet.

“Perhaps, this shall avert the gaze of the Bastards from you… For three seconds. That’s fine. I am Klein Gremory, a loyal Ghoul to the Leech of Duskwich, Eve Staccato. The safety of this area, including Corpsewood, is our responsibility. The fact that a Pit Ghoul such as yourself is here, it’s, how do I put it, alarming…” the cat sith tried to explain the situation.

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” the cerberus said. She then noticed Eve kicking June down to into the mud once again, after the young woman attempted to get up and start talking again, “Are you friends with my new partner, June Sanjo? You seem to get along well. Reminds me of playing with my siblings when I was young.”

Eve stopped for a moment, and cracked a little smile. She then kicked Sanjo in the stomach, just to make sure the “playing” thing continued and was convincing to the foolish cerberus.

“Ye-e-e-es, of course, we’ve known each other for long. Eve just loves spending time with June! And you would find that a lot of customs and habits of Bastards, and Leeches, are similar to those of noble Ghouls such as yourself,” Klein tried to make the best of the situation, although a little disturbed by the violence on Eve’s side, yet not surprised - her Leech hated others like herself with a burning passion, usually. Especially odd ones such as June.

“Splendid. Then, allow me to tell you this: I exiled myself in order to protect my dearest friend, Rex Kimaris.”

Klein blinked several times, taking one step back - she didn’t mean to. Thankfully, she was able to keep her posture and didn’t allow any suspicion to be drawn.

“The most noble of all, and my dearest friend, she shouldn’t be here, although she ran from the Pit so carelessly. I was looking for her. I was on the right path. Suddenly, something pierced through… It ripped most of my Sanguine out. It felt so, so cold. June was surveying the area, and she found me. She saved me.”

“I know the rest, most noble cerberus. Here, a fellow exile such as me welcomes you with open arms, and we are ready to help,” Klein said, and offered to shake Troz’s hands. And so they did.

“Hey, what the fuck. I thought we were going home?” Eve suddenly intervened.

“Eve, my dearest Eve, but this is important! This concerns the safety of our lands! We- We absolutely must help this fine Ghoul here, with the problem!”

“Curse the violent fate-gods… How long do you think this will take?” Staccato asked, glancing at her MP3 player, which had a clock in it.

“My friend went down this road. She must be hiding,” Troz clarified, “But I wouldn’t say it’s too far… It doesn’t smell that way.”

“Is it in the fucking tunnels? Really?”

“It’s my first guess as well, my lovely Eve,” Klein said, her eyes closed, as she smiled, so calm and so happy. Two vultures with one rock - she could help a fellow Ghoul and also help the residents of Scumburg, which she didn’t feel indifferent about at all. Her Leech just needed enough motivation.

Eve stepped around the muddy path for a little while, pondering, rubbing her chin, sometimes glancing down at beaten-up June.

“Alright. Whatever. Perhaps, I will benefit from it as well. Moreover, I’ve been thinking of visiting Aeroz Plaz next week, but since there’s all that Ghoul infestation bullshit… Might as well,” Eve explained how she felt about the issue. She then pointed down at Sanjo. “But we’re not taking this disgusting misfit with us.”

“Huh?” Troz seemed rather bewildered.

“What my Leech is trying to say here is, we should let your Leech rest at home, and depart on the journey ourselves. You are quite capable of fighting without here, aren’t you, noble cerberus?” Klein asked her, trying to mask Staccato’s annoyance and hatred.

“Of course. I understand. Let’s do that, then, and immediately! I can’t wait any longer. Allow me…” Naberius said and picked up her Leech from the ground, despite she was all covered in dirt at this point. It stained the uniform, but the bold guardian didn’t seem to care. “I will lead the way.”

 

Sometimes, the loyal Ghoul, Klein Gremory, was happy that her Leech was the way she was. Rude. Blunt. Straight to the point. Fearless. Lazy, and also very stubborn. The best quality was her lack of care for anything. One would ask: who was the dangerous assassin capable of carving the Sanguine out of a Ghoul? Who is Rex Kimaris? Why is Klein so concerned?

She sighed, thinking to herself. Klein imagined asking her Leech these questions. She would probably respond this way, Gremory thought:

“Fuck do I know? Fuck do I care? Whatever, that furbag always worries about something.”

She nodded to herself, acknowledging all that she had imagined as truth, and the only truth. There could be no other way. Her Leech had too much of a strong character to concern herself with the intrigues surrounding others. For quite a while, Eve wouldn’t even care to remember Klein’s name, calling her rude words or random names. Still, they were a good team. Always.

 

They were back in Scumburg then. The guardians were alert at first, even startled to see their local Leech beaten and knocked out, carried by an odd woman with three heads. One of those seemed quite furious, the circles in its dark, dark eyes twitching and hopping around - one of the faces seemed on edge, and it was enough for mere Bastards to consider not questioning the motives of the group. As long as they weren’t Mad, it was fine.

That child who spoke to Eve and Klein before was also there, watching them from afar - the cat sith had noticed even before they stepped through the gates. Later on, while Troz was storing June in her own house, the little girl approached Eve once again, with a big, healing smile on her face:

“But you’ve come back! I knew you would. I listened to you. Your advice!” she spoke, so happy to see the potential saviour of their little town. At the very least, the town’s tunnels. The trade would be restored…

“I don’t know you, fuck off.”

Her dreams shattered for a moment. She then, of course, remembered the words of the Leech’s cunning partner, the noble Ghoul. She turned to her and asked the same thing, although quietly, fearing the rude young woman with a weapon in her hand.

“Of course, young one, you see, we all came back. We even got an ally to help. I may have not promised you this, directly, but I’ve done everything - and here we are. I will help you,” Klein explained, calmly. She then extended her hand forward towards the little Bastard, “My name’s Klein, by the way, Klein Gremory. What’s yours?”

The child eagerly shook the cat sith’s hand.

“My name’s Lorg! And your Leech, her name was… Eve, right? People been saying!”

“Yes, Lorg, that’s right…”

“Eve, the Leech of Duskwich, so generous! So heroic!” the child laughed. “She will wash the Mads away from our tunnels with big, big rivers of blood!”

Gremory smiled warmly, then chuckled along with the little Bastard. She was used to not taking, not getting, not hoping for any credit. Her Leech was powerful. So was she, yet as a servant, she was always in the shadow of her commander. Some could say it was unfair, yet for her just standing next to her Leech was ecstatic at times.

Then, after all, one wouldn’t be famous across Soulslum. You could only be notorious.

 

Eve spoke to the guardian watching the tunnels gate. It didn’t take her long to convince him that their party would be safe down there - Bastards hated Leeches and Ghouls, but understood their powerlessness in comparison to bloodsuckers and ravagers of Soulslum. Moreover, Eve always found it easy to talk to men and women of violent and direct craft. It was also perhaps the reason she and Klein got along so well, despite the cat sith’s character, she understood. Then, again, what was there to understand in a world such as this? Suffering fueled its spirit, blood quenched its thirst, bodies satisfied its hunger. Nonsense prevailed, ignorance masked pointlessness, despair was normal.

As they descended into the darkness of the infested tunnels, Eve still heard the little girl Larg clap and cheer for them. She thought, for a long time - as long as the creaky, worn stairs lasted until the bottom of the initial shaft.

“Noble cat sith used to be a soldier, isn’t that right? How do I address you?” Troz suddenly asked.

“Why, you don’t have to. We’re all exiles here, despite our undeniable nobility. It runs through our blood. Had you not felt it germinate, right there, in the Sanguine? Forget the ranks, exile Naberius. Your raw power matters more,” Klein explained patiently, slowing down just a bit to walk right next to the other Ghoul. Eve was in front of them, impatient. She spoke to them, irritated:

“Great, just don’t fuck back there. We need this thing done, you can noble-jerk later…”

Two of Troz’s faces, with the exception of the enraged one, blushed just slightly at the remark. She whispered to the cat sith, apologizing if she came across as interested in Eve’s Ghoul. Gremory chuckled, somehow happy with the remaining innocence within the Pit Ghoul. It took her a bit to explain that her Leech is fond of blunt jokes and witty remarks, and that despite seeming outraged, she never really hurts her allies. “I’m not afraid of the two of you,” the angered head spoke up, suddenly.

“Sometimes, there isn’t even enough time to be afraid, before something happens to you, exile Naberius. It’s been a long time since I’ve left the Pit. Perhaps, it’s all different now. Or, maybe, the it evaded many of the horrors of this world. You will have to get used to this,” Gremory told her, gave Troz a pat on the back and hurried to follow her Leech.

They never thought how long the tunnels had been infested. The interior seemed dusty, but as polished, crafty, sturdy as it was - or so it seemed. They rarely journeyed out of Duskwich. So they thought.

Stone floor made out of large slabs carried them further, deeper into the darkness. Scumburg’s guardians were kind enough to provide the party with a flashlight, a device rather useless to the three of them, but Eve took it anyway. It made her feel a bit better when she was offered it by a Bastard. Like she’s one of them.

The marble walls around them, polished so hard they almost saw their clear reflections - excluding Eve - seemed as if they were tightening, moving closer as the three kept going.

“Dearest Eve, did you happen to find out just what sort of Ghouls infests these passages?” Klein asked.

“The guardians told me those were some big rats, or something. Ate some of their workers down there, small cuts, small bites. They’re big, but small to us anyway, apparently. We’ll just kick them around and go home,” Eve explained, and she sounded quite bored.

“Hopefully, before sunrise, we’ll be home…” Gremory agreed.

“We must find Rex first,” Troz added, a bit nervous.

 

At some point, they stopped. But the tunnel didn’t end. What they saw in the distance, thanks to their fine ability to see in the darkest places, was something unnerving at least. A horde of small people stood in the dark, doing nothing but looking right at the three. And it wouldn’t have been as frightening, had those small underground-dwelling monsters been unarmed. In hand, each held a weapon - a big, thick and sharp needle. The small ones all looked different - some were old, some were young, but all of them had eyes filled to the brim with blood, pulsating. They were dressed like usual Bastards of the lands above, but instead of despair they’ve been gifted with undying rage.

Eve had never seen those before - neither had the Ghouls, surprisingly enough.

“Those are not Ghoul… They are from books of the old. Little folk.  Blefuscudians. Precursors of Bastards, perhaps, or a strain of those, castaways, exiled to the depths of the world…” Gremory recited what she knew, in fear. Despite all the horrible things happening on Soulslum, much was explained, but the tales of the old were not.

“Huh. The violent fate-gods blessed us today. I was worried these would be too small for our weapons to handle,” Eve said. She then addressed the small people, “You have your last chance to fuck off, shit bits.”

They looked at each other, one at another, thinking about Eve’s words. Then they charged forward, all silent. No battle cries, no curses, just hundreds of hasty little footsteps and the clanging of the needles, the shuffling of their clothes.

“Here they come!” Troz announced, stepping forward and getting ready.

Eve thrusted her spear-staff forward, impaling several of the  Blefuscudians on it, their little bodies cracking open, blood trickling down to the stone floor, filling the cracks between the slabs - and it drove all the remaining ones mad. They hastily climbed onto the spear-staff, holding onto its blades, cutting their fingers off in the process. Those more fortunate managed to hold onto the impaled lifeless bodies of their brethren, with no grace to speak of, and then climbed forward along the stick towards Eve, holding their needles between their sharp teeth.

“Fuck!” she said, almost dropping the weapon.

Her cat sith came to rescue - she put her blade on top of the staff and then moved it down the shaft sharply enough to take the small monsters by surprise - the blade cut the climbers’ little limbs off, and flung them off.

“We can’t let them get to us, my lovely Leech!” Gremory exclaimed.

“Slice and dice the motherfuckers. Stomp them. Don’t let them climb onto you! Troz!” Eve called out to their ally.

“Yes, Leech of Duskwich?”

“You finish them off, we’ll clear the road! Watch our back!

They agreed to these terms. Klein had the upper hand - her weapon suitable for the situation so much more both in size and function. Sweeping strikes went on and on, from left to right as they kept moving backwards, gradually retreating from the Blefuscudian onslaught. Eventually, even these rage-filled monsters decided they were fighting an unfair fight - their enemies resisted fear, and were much quicker than weakling Bastards. They slowly backed away - still preparing for a counter-attack as soon as someone among the three invaders would slip up. Yet that didn’t happen. Klein ripped their stomachs open, sliced them across the bloodshot eyes, cut their heads open and removed limb after limb, sweeping them away, smashing them into the polished marble walls with the sheer force of her attacks.

Behind her, Eve would wait for the right moment to step to the side and offer an even more powerful sweep with her spear-staff, blinding, disorienting the Blefuscudian crowd. That’s when Troz would come in, three of her heads hungry for battle - after all, those small monsters, perhaps, held her Rex captive. She made sure none of the foes remained alive, stomping each small body she’d find on the floor behind Eve and Klein. She would sometimes even crouch so slightly to slam her combat bracers right into a bunch of wounded Blefuscudians, crushing their little bodies, smashing their twitching heads into mush of blood, meat and broken bone.

It was an exhausting battle, claustrophobic, locked deep under the ground. Had they not been Leech and Ghouls, they would have certainly perished, fighting the raging little monsters. But in the end, they won. Klein was covered in needles, piercing her all over, but thankfully not her face - she cherished her looks quite a bit. Moreover, she thought it was necessary for her to look good around her Leech. She had to be presentable.

“Noble Gremory! Are you alright? You look like my grandmatriarch’s needle bed!” Troz laughed with all of her heads - each did so to a different degree - as she plucked needles out of herself, too.

“I… Will be fine. My abilities include tending to wounds,” Gremory reassured Naberius. She knew she didn’t have to reassure or calm Eve down - her Leech simply couldn’t care less.

“Alright, keep moving. Good job, though. We got these fuckers. They’re so weird, I hate this shit. I hope there isn’t more of them. Maybe Scumburg Bastards can get themselves a flamethrower from Aeroz Plaz,” Eve said, moving on, walking over corpses of the poor dead little folk.

  
Travelling the tunnels, which branched - unfortunately, it really upset Eve, who wished not to be there any longer - lead them deeper and deeper into the dim corners, niches and holes of the underworld between the two Bastard towns. Yet, Troz had a great sense of smell - she kept telling the Leech that they were getting close.

Then there was blood. Even Staccato’s nose picked up the scent. She had to resist the urge to drop down to her knees and lap it up from the stone floor.

“Blood… That’s her blood, no doubt! Oh, no, no, Rex!” Troz was in distress, picking up her pase, almost running through the corridors.

“Slow down, exile Naberius! Oh, what a pain this is going to be!” Klein yelled, following her Ghoul ally, still picking needles from her own clothes on the way.

Alone in the corridor, Eve stood for just a couple of seconds, making sure Klein made the turn. She slowly got down on one knee, touched the floor soiled with noble blood. She stuck her tongue out and gave her fingers a big, hungry lick. It was a bit stale and dusty, she had to spit some of it out - but the taste never lied. That Rex Kimaris was someone important back in the Pit.

Eve couldn’t stay there forever. She followed the bloody footsteps and soon found her Ghoul in a small room. Troz was somewhere deeper in it, kneeling next to someone obviously wounded. The floor under them was coated in noble blood. A wound similar to the one had Naberius suffered from earlier, no doubt.

“Troz… Troz, can you hear me? Ah, fu-u-u-uck...” she called out to her friend.

“Yes, yes I can! We’re here to help you! Who did this to you… Who did this! Your Sanguine…”

“They got me good, brother. Fuck... Fuck! No doubt, my false matriarch’s hired knives… Look at me, brother, I'm bleeding out, all over the fucking floor, come on! Am I gonna die like this? In a ditch... Better than dropping back in the Pit, that shitehole... That demonic sack of shite, ah, curse her!” Rex screamed in pain. Eve, listening to her, realized that the noble Ghoul definitely rejected bits of the upbringing - she had expected her to be a lot like Klein in her manners. Yet, she liked the prospects of speaking to someone in simpler terms.

 

They all had a lot to talk about. 


	3. FLESH AND ASH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for tuning in for another chapter of this fanfic.  
> This one is a bit shorter but introduces quite a bit about the story to come.  
> Hope you enjoy it!  
> And also enjoy the wonderful illustration by Sava (check out her Twitter: @batcannon) included in this chapter. It's absolutely amazing, stunning work - thank you!

 

A manticore. True monstrosity. A violent, horrible combination. Yet… the loyalty she’d awakened within the cerberus was peculiar. Such were Eve’s observations. As for Klein — she froze right on the spot. saying nothing. Definitely felt unwell, yet no one around cared, since they were in the presence of someone wounded so much more.

“Troz…”

“You should have never left alone! Why would you run!” the cerberus yelled, grabbing her friend by the shoulders and giving her a nice shake. In return, the manticore spit blood in one of the hound’s faces.

“Who are these chums you brought here… to my dying moment.”

“They’re here to help. We- we could do something. Can’t you pact with Rex, o noble Leech?”

Eve just stared back at them. Klein sighed, realizing it was her duty to represent her partner in social interactions.

“My Leech prefers to work with just one Ghoul, unfortunately. But there is an eager Leech in town above these forsaken tunnels who may be interested,” the cat sith explained in the most soothing voice.

“That’s some kind of horse shite. Guess I’ll walk and bleed at the same time?” Rex asked, attempting to get up. It was no use. She fell back into the pool of her own blood.

“Is it worth living bound to that scum, anyway?” Eve suddenly spoke up.

“It is worth living, believe me, brother… I have… plans.”

“Sure. Fuck it. Klein, can you patch her up? Make it quick. I’m sick of this fucking place. Don’t let these tunnels become catacombs,” Eve concluded, and turned away from all of them.

“Ha! I like that phrase…” Rex said, genuinely chuckling. She then began hissing as Gremory rested her hands on wounds, forcing a disgusting process to occur within the manticore’s body to heal it piece by piece.

Eve felt a bit flustered at that comment, and at the situation as a whole. There was a lot of delicious blood there she wouldn’t mind lapping up right from the floor, but she had to desperately resist the urges.

Rex watched the cat sith heal her. Gradually, she regained some of her strength and will to carry on. And her mind saw clearly that the Ghoul tending to her had something quite heavy atop her very soul, slowly crushing it. The added weight from meeting Rex didn’t help. Memories resurfaced. But what could she be, this cunning Ghoul exile?

Gremory had the same question torturing her. She had guesses, but didn’t want to be right.

“Enough. I can… walk, now,” Rex growled, almost slamming one of her hands on Klein’s shoulders, staining it with blood. She slowly got up from the ground.

She looked shorter next to Klein, at first. Rex was dressed in a simple brown-red tunic, torn due to her recent defeat. A vagrant’s unsightly, poor attire complete with baggy pants and worn boots. Belts were tied around her waist, across her chest, they were fastened around her arms and even legs, some perhaps serving practical purpose, some there for reasons unknown. The buckles on those, golden, shone like nobleman’s jewelry. Was she one worthy of treasures like those?

She took a firm stance on the cold floor of the dungeon, taking the deepest of breaths. Darkest and most mysterious energy was flowing through her as she slowly prepared for the long journey back to Scumburg. Her enormous blood red mane - which reached all the way to her lower back - all in disarray, tangled and tied, losing itself in its own volume, almost moved around like thousands of snakes… but a larger string suddenly appeared - not just a string, a massive scaly tail moved behind her back, clicking, snapping, brandishing its sharp deadly tip.

She moved her hands and stretched her arms, rolled her shoulders, getting used to standing again, breathing again. Klein was a fine healer when time was of essence. Some wounds were not hers to heal - Rex’s body seemingly was covered in scars of various sorts - ranging from large and old to small and recent. Even her face hadn’t been spared some long, long time ago, it seemed. Who knew how many more were under her worn clothes. The only places unscathed were covered with scales instead - no wonder a gift of her amalgamation at work. She smiled, and took another breath - two of her fuzzy ears trembling - and exhaled with a loud hiss.

Blood sprayed everywhere, as two large wings seemingly erupted from her back. Rex shook them for a while, chuckling, making sure she had everyone in the dungeon room covered and inconvenienced. Bony, almost claw-like, but strong-looking wings.

“You put my fucking cigarette out, idiot,” Eve said, lighting up another one. Rex didn’t seem to be offended by the Leech’s words, and laughed.

“Sorry, brother. It’s just… so good to be alive. But my powers may fade. Quick. Bring me to that Leech you’ve told me about. Maybe I have something to offer you all,” the manticore explained. She let her arm rest over Troz’s shoulder as they headed out of the room.

Eve squinted, watching them leave. The tunic Rex wore had quite peculiar embroidery on it, apparently mostly hidden by caked dirt and blood staining the clothes. And considering this runaway had a whole noble cerberus watching over her, it was quite clear: Rex wasn’t just a vagrant, she was an exile. With a troublesome past.

Then again, who didn’t have one?

 

Rex was a fearsome figure amongst all in Scumburg. Emerging from the depths of the now cleansed - somewhat - tunnels, she spread her wings once again, scaring little Bastard children and some faint-hearted adults. Some of them spread the rumours - Demon, they said, was in town. They used a word for it, long abandoned, yet not forgotten. And the manticore loved it with all of her being, she reveled in her ascending fame. Shooting glances and cracking nasty smiles at the Bastards, she calmly followed her guardian, Naberius, to the humble home of Scumburg’s Leech.

Reluctantly, but Eve also followed them all inside. She put her cigarette out by rubbing it on the house’s door. That would certainly show the scummy Leech she came to hate that much in one long, exhausting night.

Inside, it was darker than outside at night. They saw furniture in disarray placed around the one big room. Somewhere in the corner of it, a curtain separated some place from the main living space, perhaps some sort of bathroom - weird red light coming from it. Troz lit a lamp standing right near the entrance and went in. Apparently, she knew at least something about the place, since she had to go in to put June down.

It smelled. Like no one ever opened a window there - it was a horrible stench, even, or the basic lack of air in the house made it so unbearable. Even the dungeons below the town felt lighter. Sanjo was lying on a torn-looking sofa, snoring. Naberius gave her a little shove.   
“June. Wake up.”

She wouldn’t. Troz put the lamp on a creaky coffee table.

“Please, wake up. We need your help.”

“Wake up, dipshit!” Eve grew impatient and shoved the blunt end of her spear-staff towards June, striking her ribs.

“Oh, oh fuck! Fuck!” the Leech of Scumburg graciously yelled and squirmed around.

“June. I know this may strain you. But we need you to… Form another pact. My friend Rex, she is in need of your powers…” Troz explained slowly. She seemed like a sweet, patient soul. Oblivious.

“Yeah… I gotta tell you… that pact thing really made my head spin when I first woke up here… I think I jacked off like ten ti… wait,” June sat up straight, “another Ghoul?”

She looked up and saw the rest of them. Eve looked as if she was ready to beat June to pulp right there and then, on the spot. Klein seemed politely disgusted. Rex was smiling, squinting just a bit.

“I need help, perhaps you could lend me a hand? Or two? Ha-ha… I have big plans, and if you, June Sanjo, are gonna  form the scummiest yet bravest pact with me, Rex Kimaris… To stick together, now and forever… ‘cause, I mean, what else do we have?…” Rex asked June, invoking the words of the pact, yet giving them her own spin. Which did make Klein extremely uncomfortable, and Troz as well, who almost went to correct her friend. But in reality, words didn’t matter, the meaning did.

But something was off with Klein. Eve noticed her - she was almost trembling. That’s not how her most noble and adventurous Ghoul was. Out of pity, the Leech took Gremory’s hand and held it tight.

“Get your shit together.”

“Oh fuck… yes! I’m not even going to ask for anything in return, yes! You can do anything to me!” Sanjo almost screamed, and wouldn’t stop unless Troz politely put her strong hands over the Leech’s mouth, smiling awkwardly. They didn’t want the guardians in the town thinking there was a murder, or worse.

Bright light. Light of almost tangible gold. Energy flowing in and out. The whole room was struck with a powerful blow of the wind, knocking some of the rotting furniture over. The last stroke was countless photographs raining from the walls and the ceiling, which had been almost completely plastered in these pictures before. All of Ghouls, the acts of violent curiosity performed by June. Eve closed her eyes not to think about this.

 

Sanjo seemed exhausted, almost drained. No one seemed to care about it excessively, however - Naberius simply put her back on the couch and stood up. Rex was right next to her, her wings spread once again, all of her limbs twitching, filled to the brim with newfound energy.

“This Bastard is surprisingly powerful. What a waste of potential, though. Thank you, brothers, I can’t thank you enough. Now it’s going to be all my way…” she said, nonchalantly stepping towards one of the windows in the house, knocking things off the old furniture around. She was moving through the hoarder’s disgusting rubbish so calmly, as if taking a fine walk through fields somewhere far, far away. She was of a different breed - it was becoming more and more obvious to Eve. Rex forced the window open, and everyone exhaled with relief. They may have been powerful, reckless creatures, but there was a big difference between filth and dust. One was carelessness, another was the passage of time.

“So, can we go home now? It may be morning some time soon, and I don’t wanna fucking die, just saying,” Eve grumbled.

“Can you guys stay for a bit? I have a… proposition to make. I have an offer, brother, for you. You’re capable, mad capable, unlike my unfortunate Leech here,” Rex was saying, moving back to all of them - it seemed so - yet then she made a turn to head for another window.

“There’s literally fuck all you can offer me that’s actually going to interest me, you know that, right?”

“Is it money? Is it fame? Perhaps, you’re after love? Sex? When I fulfill my plan, I’ll give you anything, brother… trust me,” Rex proclaimed, determined to persuade Eve. She tried to open the next window, but ripped the handle off instead. After some trial and error, she finally got it to work. Without the handle, unfortunately.

“I don’t care about that. Whatever. I’m really tired and I wanna sleep,” Eve moaned.

“Yes, I think that is right. My Leech is very tired…” Klein was saying, but got interrupted by Eve, surprisingly.

“Huh? Klein doesn’t want to go on an adventure? I must be in a coma, or something. Actually, I have something I want,” the Leech said, all mischievous. She really wanted to bully her Ghoul at times. It did feel a bit weird when Gremory squeezed her hand even harder, as if begging to stop. But at that time, Eve brushed it off. “I want to meet my favourite band. I wanna have a date with the sole member of it.”

Everyone froze.

“Your favourite band? Ha-ha… a date?!” Rex laughed, and it didn’t sound like her at all, more like three beings erupting into laughter at the same time, almost roaring. “Brave Leech. You will have so much more. I can promise you that, and that, brother… now, would you hear my offer?”

“Alright. My favourite band is Begging4Mercy, by the way. Lead by Patch Godunov. I heard she’s a Leech actually, living in some town called Echo…” Eve almost rambled, but then stopped herself, feeling a bit flustered.

“Well. Alright. What I was going to say is - I am Rex Kimaris. And let it be no secret - I am heir to the Ghoul Throne in the Pit. It is my birthright to inherit the title of the Noble Matriarch, and unlike the current incompetent ruler, who happens to be my false matriarch, I will lead Ghouls of all kinds to glory, and I will stop the conflicts between us and Bastards.”

“Wait… you escaped to do this?” Troz asked, shocked.

“No. I escaped execution. The Noble Matriarch was wearing the skin of my patriarch, Caesar. She has worn it all the way until it rotted off completely, each day forcing me to look at the decomposing vessel of my patriarch. He was chosen by the Noble Patriarch! I am the Noble Patriarch’s child, as much as I am my patriarch’s child! I’m going to fucking kill that bitch for what she’s done! I’m gonna make sure the disgusting body of hers will hang from the castle gates, for all liberated Ghouls to see the evil gone from the Pit! She was plotting to kill me, for sport!”

“So, what you’re saying is: you’re a bastard child of the ghoul king, but both of your dads are dead, and you want to start a war on your stepmother, who’s the current queen,” Eve wished to clarify in simple terms.

“Ha-ha. I need to get used to the speech of Bastard and Leech… so free, so fluid! So simple! I’m so damn glad I came here. And yes. That is what I mean. Think about it. I will reward you. But shall you betray me… not much will come out of it. There’s two of you, and more of us. Soon enough, this whole town will worship my cause.”

“Alright. I’m really tired, and I shouldn’t be out in the light. Fuck this… for now. Let’s go Klein,” Eve said, grabbing Klein firmly by the arm and dragging her away.

“Don’t forget, noble Leech! This will help not only me, but you, as well, for real!” she heard Rex yell as they left.

 

They went back home in complete silence, for the most part. Just as they were going to leave Corpsewood and enter Duskwich, Klein called out to Eve, squeezing her hand again - they’d been going like that the whole time.

“Eve…” she sounded very gentle. Her Leech stopped and turned back to look at her.

“What?”

“Do you really want to date that musician?”

Eve stared at Klein, and the Ghoul stared back at her.

“What.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Shut the fuck up and answer me- I mean. Don’t shut the fuck up. And answer me,” Eve let go of her one hand and took her by the arms, watching carefully.

“... You won’t forget about me, right? You’re not just going to leave me, after years of my most dedicated service to you,” Klein said, her lips shaking, the green circles in her pitch black eyes shaking, flickering.

Eve hated seeing Ghouls in such miserable state. She wouldn’t mind ripping limbs off, beating, shooting, stabbing, cutting - as long as it lead to death. But seeing such deep, veiled pain within someone was unbearable. Eve held Klein’s arms really, really tight.

“I will. Never. Fucking. Leave you. You die by my side. Or I die by yours. Do you understand?”

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, my dearest, my most noble and most caring Leech, I am so sorry to fail you like this…” Klein was on the verge of tears.

Eve held her. An unholy sunrise was somewhere far away, bringing the scorching light of day. They soon had to hurry back. Klein kept latching onto her Leech the whole time, desperate to stay close. At home they reported to Liang, and went back to the room, where the Ghoul tended to Eve, hiding her from sunlight and making sure none of it came through. Her loyalty was rewarded.

 

Inside June’s disgusting home, Rex and Troz sat down, having cleaned a corner of the dwelling for themselves.

“Troz.”

“Yes, my lady?”

“There is something I gotta ask.”

“Anything. I’m so glad we finally are back together… and, it’s frightening, but I will follow you anywhere?”

“Be my wife. And as a symbol of our devotion to the plan, let’s form the Flesh.”

All of Troz’s heads shared the same confused, even shocked expression. The formation of Flesh wasn’t a joke, although performed carelessly by many ruthless and thoughtless Ghouls, it was the sacred ritual of prolonging one’s noble bloodline…

“R-rex, I… is that really fine? I’m not…”

“It doesn’t matter who you are. When I rule over the Pit, we’ll all be treated with respect. I promise. We’ll get rid of Han. We, and our children will rule. I’ll burn the old and plant the new, by the words of the last Leech Seer... “ Rex said, shuffling closer to Troz. She put two of her hands on the left and the right heads’ cheeks, and looked deeply into the centre head’s eyes. The coloured circles in the dark of their eyes slowly calmed down, staring at each other, perfectly round.

“You were there to hear it… as the formed Flesh. It makes sense now…” Troz whispered.

“Damn right I was. The stupid old hag has no idea. But I heard it all. I know it all. And I also know… if done right, wish for vengeance will germinate within that Ghoul. The one with green eyes. And her Leech… how peculiar. The violent fate-gods recognize my potential by letting me right into this!” she hissed, and then laughed in Troz’s face, until the cerberus laughed back.

The manticore wrapped her arms, her wings and even her deadly tail around the cerberus, showering all of her faces in kisses and licks, chuckling and fooling around. Something she could never do so freely back in the Pit, tormented by her most evil - by her words - false matriarch.

Outside, the guardians of Scumburg felt the cold end to the night. Sun was crawling over the world, heating all below it. They just had to avoid looking at it too much. Some Bastards would get so sun-starved that they couldn’t resist staring at it for hours when it finally rises. Those poor souls never came back. The Leeches would stay indoors, powerless against the blinding might of the lights above. Another fine day in the filth of The Lost.

 

…

Man stood in front of her. He was either lucky or unlucky to participate in one of the most ancient practices know on Ashwer.

“A manticore? And not alone? Is this right? Don’t suppose you’d waste my time and your life for this.”

“It’s…” he took a breath. Despite knowing he was facing the most noble and blessed death, he was still afraid, terrified, and wanted to run. Yet that would cast a shadow over his whole family, “it’s all true. Our best informant in The Lost…”

The Lost was far away from them. A horrible place to live in. Lands of the living dead, as Ashwerians would call it.

“I see,” she said, standing up from her seat. She picked up a rather archaic-looking handgun from the desk - nothing of what we’d see used by guardians of Scumburg, back there, so, so far away. She pointed it at the messenger. “We are eternally grateful for your loyal and holy duty in life and in death. You are to be retired, as your holy work will now continue in the realm of the passed. Reclaim your ash wings. By the ancient code 55.A.F.234 of the Old Hunt Compendium: shoot the messenger.”

She squeezed the trigger, motionless in her whole body but the finger which brought world around her to peace as the ancient rules were followed word to word. The messenger fell. In Ashwer, no matter how misunderstood and twisted the old traditions were, they were conserved anyway. She put the weapon down.

“Kon, we’re leaving.”

 


	4. PASSIVE; AGGRESSIVE / BLOOD MONEY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for tuning in for another chapter of this fanfic. It's been a long time. Writing has been difficult.  
> This chapter is a bit longer, that's good. Check it out!  
> Hope you enjoy it!  
> \- Also couldn't decide on a title for the chapter, so there's two.

 

If you said that words cut deeper than any blade, you’d be considered an entitled hack looking to fool Bastards of Soulslum into trouble. At best, the others would think you were an idiot. Something so preposterous had no place in this world. Belief, trust, faith were lost words, at least for the most Bastards of The Lost. They recognized raw, unstoppable power, which is why the Leeches always were on top, and the poor survivors had to hope that those above them would be wise, and most of all - merciful. Hope fed those who never tasted blood.

Those born under Eve Staccato’s watchful green eyes were lucky. Perhaps even the luckiest of them all in The Lost. Although intimidated, they could live their lives as they pleased - as long as it also pleased the Leech of Duskwich. And Eve was mostly indifferent. There weren’t many things on Soulslum that made her truly happy. She loved her MP3 player, she loved the band named Begging4Mercy, she loved her loyal Ghoul and the comfort of her own home. It was enough. Life was good.

For some, however, it was never enough. They embraced the curse of longevity differently, finding other benefits of their power, their might, their clear superiority over mere Bastards. All pride and courage aside, no one in their right mind would claim to be stronger than a Leech. Such harsh truth yielded peculiar relations between the two kinds.

 

Silky smooth white shirt - just like the others wore for the masters’ meals. The mansion butler, the most trusted and respected Bastard in Aeroz Plaz - and that meant something - helped the man get dressed. It was important. Part of the ritual to appease the masters, or at least one of them. It wasn’t the first time he had to endure such treatment. In fact, it was the tenth time - a milestone of sorts, which the Bastard didn’t mind. After a while of getting used to the new surroundings, bargaining with himself, grieving, attempting to escape, he was faced with the ultimate truth that every resident of Aeroz Plaz knew.

No matter how many times he had to endure Leech teeth piercing his skin, no matter how many insults he’d have to hear - he was safe here. And life was good. No Mad Ghouls. No looters. No kidnappers. He, like many others, walked in, and signed the contract. Was there really any dignity to lose in this world?

 

The master wiped his lips with a clean handkerchief and painted it red. He did so again and again, folding it several times, then put it down on the table.

“Alright. Off you go then. Get your mud-slimy needle-boone weakling neck off my plate. Fuck off,” said the dining one, ordering the his meal to leave him be. The Bastard got up from his knees, lifting his head from a plate that stood on top of a decorated long wooden table. “Gerome! Gerome, you crumbling old meat sack, get this cattle back to the quarters. I must say, though, you brain-dead fuckheads actually outdid yourself. First time in a month I have an acceptable meal.”

“Thank you, young sir…”

“Look, I don’t care for how long you’ve been dragging and hauling your disgusting bag of filthy blood and rotten meat around all of Soulslum - I am not ‘young sir’ to you, you fucking idiot, it’s just ‘sir’, how gods damned fucking hard is it to just spell three letters with your crusty lips and your sickly tongue, right?!”

“I am… terribly sorry, sir. I will take my leave now.”

“Piss off…”

He sighed and looked across the table. At the opposite end, his sister sat back in a creaky wooden armchair with soft cushions and armrests. Her eyes were half-closed, staring at him.

“In a good mood today?” she asked, tilting her head a little bit and moving her fingers around. She didn’t like expressing herself too much through the body. All you needed to know was already put in her words.

“Quite the opposite, in fact. Upsetting news. It seems like the Bastards of Scumburg actually managed to clear out the tunnels.”

“Oh? I suppose I should tell Chip about it…” she dragged, then rolled her eyes to the side, as if looking for the Ghoul. Then closed them, sighing so, so deeply. “Maybe tomorrow I should.”

“Trade is bound to resume, yet I am not particularly fuc…” he coughed, covering his mouth with his fist for a moment, “I’m not particularly sure I’m happy about it. We did manage to accumulate quite a bit with the Scumburg beggars away…”

“We don’t have to give them stuff, you know. Neither do we have to let them in. You could put the Shoulders up. Entry fees?”

“Higher prices. We’ve grown, surplus no more,” he remarked.

“Then, also, two of the farms withered. The soil is not as bountiful as it used to be.”

In a way, they were right. Yet, it was mostly pointless talk. Aeroz Plaz never had trouble feeding its Bastards and Leeches, but always was tight-fisted, greedy, mercantile and almost sadistic. The worse the situation outside, the more wanted in. Was it a trap? Of course it was. And Bastards knew it, but the temptation to live safely and - surprisingly - well-fed was just too much for their already weakened pride to handle, withstand. Even at the beginning, Aeroz Plaz masters never forced anyone from the outside to move and contribute to the town. 

Despite occasional unrest within its walls, it still stood and functioned. Some of the Bastards complained, but had no other choice. Among all evils, the one they lived in was the lesser one. Or, as they frequently called it: the kindest evil.

Evil had two faces in Aeroz Plaz.

The first face was a woman Leech named Ann Galliard. The older of the two siblings, she was also the calmest. A lot of it came from the laziness and absolute disinterest in anything but her own favourite passivities - as you could hardly call sleeping, eating, drinking, daydreaming and swimming in riches of the spoiled world ‘activities’.

There she was - sitting at the table, fiddling with the pristine soft tablecloth, smiling to herself, holding a beautiful glass in the other hand - just drops of blood sliding at its bottom. She smiled to herself, looking at nothing in particular, and her smile was the one her Bastards called ‘the pure’, for Ann never sunk her excessively long, sharp fangs into a neck of a living being. At times, she would present them quite proudly, smiling, or letting them stick out over her lower lip.

Her hay-bright hair was tied into a messy braid hanging off her head, flowing somewhere on its own - it was long, soft, just like the large fur coat she wore. The finest materials, adorned with golden embroidery and finest dyes at the cuffs, and with precious pearl buttons all the way from top to the bottom. She rarely buttoned it up, however, as she’d usually just spend her time in the mansion. Below she wore an exquisite long dress with a collar, tied with a fine sash at her waist, all so soft and flowing, although wrinkled and in a bit of a disarray because of her night-to-night way of living. And the shoes - what a shame it was that the people of Soulslum rarely got to see her stunning attire, for those were the pinnacle of her look. Eye-striking crimson leather, polished so much one could probably see their reflection in those.

She sighed and pouted, squinting just a bit. She got quite chubby ever since they settled down and amassed wealth, but it only contributed to her soft and sweet, but wise and attentive image. Or was it her nature? Perhaps it was. Unlike her younger brother, Ann didn’t have to deal with upholding an image - the Bastards simply loved the Leech. Especially when she was drunk. She did her part, one of the two.

 

He clicked his tongue.

“Now that I think of it, that one has…” he raised his hand and rubbed his thumb and index finger together in a circular motion, trying to pinch something that wasn’t there, “has that taste. I don’t know the name, but I recognize the taste. Exquisite. Perhaps, a Bastard Blueblood? I need to figure it out. We’ll have him his own quarters. Or maybe we should not. I don’t want the taste to get old.”

“Ricky, you’re imagining things. Pretty sure Bastard Bluebloods were sucked dry of it eons ago… uh. Or millenia? Ugh. Chip should know,” she grumbled. She didn’t like to count.

Rick Galliard, or ‘Ricky’, as his older sister called him, looked down at the empty plate. He saw no joy in the food that Bastards lived off daily, neither did he ever feel the need to imitate it. Unlike his sister, he preferred it all first-hand, within his reach, real, raw. Rick was still young, but his eager attitude and his determination made him stronger. The secret ingredient to his power, however, was his anger, pure rage, unstoppable stream of malice. Or so claimed the whispers going around Aeroz Plaz.

He had the same eyes as his sister, and quite often it’s all that the Bastards would see of his face. Only those he named ‘cattle’ actually had a good look of his young but stern face. Perhaps, not seeing it was better - it was cold, unimpressed, which stung even more than the heated, hateful words he flung at his Bastards. It made those wonder - what really goes on in his mind?

Rick puts his mask back on - it was made out of a quite menacing-looking skull. Two golden horns remained attached to it, rising above Galliard’s head, twisting. His eyes looked through two big holes - all solemn, proud, in control. The skull bone was polished thoroughly, frighteningly smooth, perfect - even the bit at the bottom, which seemed as if some of it fell apart long ago. Numerous tales surrounded this mask, stories of its origin. No one knew if the truth was out there or not. Perhaps the most obvious interpretation was right: Rick Galliard lost his loyal ghoul, then decided to keep the skull. Some would claim that the master was so cruel he executed the Ghoul himself for some crime, and the worst version of all stated that the young man just wanted the golden horns for himself. Such was the second face in Aeroz Plaz.

Some of it never added up, however, but some of it did. Another target of speculation was a cane that Rick carried around - a symbol of his status of some sort - a sturdy black shaft attached to… a golden, twisted handle.

To find out and understand the truth would mean actually talking to him. Which, in fact, was a common occurrence. Yet it’s hardly ever a dialogue. The young Leech orders, the others do what they’re told. There was never any discussion.

He put his greatcoat back on - coloured sea-green, with dark-grey shoulder pads and two rows of polished white buttons, presumably made of bone. It was tailored to suit him all over, it was precisely made and only added up to his overall image. Whether he was said image, or just maintained it - was unknown, but young Rick was quite good at it. He was the mean, the strict, the scary master for the Bastards of Aeroz Plaz, the one they were afraid not to love, but also the one they were hesitant to hate unconditionally.

He fixes the gloves on his hands, and then makes sure the thin red scarf around his neck was tied precisely the way he wanted it to be, wrapping around his neck, rising over the fur-trimmed collar and flowing several buttons down the greatcoat. It was originally his, but an item he cared about deeply.

“Please, stay warm. The nights are getting way colder,” he said to his sister, despite knowing well enough she’d never drop a layer of her usual attire, practically rolled up in cloth and furs.

“Sure. Don’t kill someone there, yeah?”

“They won’t give me a reason to.”

She raised her eyebrows and nodded. No one who knew about the power of the Leeches of Aeroz Plaz would dare. Unless…

 

“Madame. Could it be, that, perhaps, for instance - I could really assist you, in this trying time? I could, say, read a fitting passage from the Old Hunt Compendium. I have just - you see - happened to remember…”

“Be quiet, Scribe,” the Vanquisher said extending her arm towards her presumed colleague, as if expecting to be handed something, “brush, ink. Now.”

The other one rummaged through a pouch attached to a purple-dyed belt. Soon enough, a small can of ink and a sturdy brush were in hands of the Vanquisher. She drowned the tip of the brush in the dark, slimy ink inside the can, then made several strokes on the stone piece standing in front of her.

“These burials were defaced,” she said, drawing a symbol on the stone. It was a large dark dot and four lines, detached from it, pointing to north, east, south and west. The Ashwer Old Hunt symbol. The same was painted on her plate armour chestplate, and also was sown onto the Scribe’s tabard.

“Ah. But of course. As the ancient code 22.A.F.1 of the Old Hunt Compendium says: one has right for proper burial. Code 22.A.F.5: burial sites are to be preserved. Code 22.A.F.6: it is our duty to tread the dead like the living…” the other woman was reading out the passages from the book out loud, apparently she remembered most of them and didn’t need a single peek at the material itself - a leather-covered book with a purple spine, where it was connected to a chain, which was attached to the Scribe’s belt. Always at hand. A self-respecting Scribe always carried a shorter version of the Old Hunt Compendium with them - even if they remembered it by heart.

When she was done reciting it, she fixed her glasses on her face, somewhat proud of herself - although pride was frowned upon among Scribes, as they were mere mouthpieces for the wisdom of Ashwer history and tradition. A Scribe doesn’t have a personality, doesn’t have wishes, can’t have opinions. Especially in Kon’s case, she was obliged to stay by Rain’s side until the Vanquisher’s death and even after - until her own body dries out. Such were the laws for the likes of her. She had no say in it, but neither did she ever want to criticize it - for that is how she had been raised. Two sad, worn out eyes looking through elegant, small round golden-tinted glasses. Longing for something, despite not even knowing how to wish for anything in the world. It made Kon feel off - and it was not allowed. She quickly decided to check her attire, check herself - whether she was fine or not. A thin teal cap covering just the top of her head was still there - a popular choice among the Scribes. It went really well along with the large white collar hanging over a teal capelet, held at her neck by a golden button and two cloth stripes a bit lower, attached to the parts of it by shiny clips. Underneath, the tabard of the same colour hung over the white shirt, going lower past her knees. The Ashwer Old Hunt Symbol was there, right on her chest, reminding anyone familiar with Soulslum’s cultures who they were dealing with.

It would be a rare occurrence. After all, Ashwerians would rarely leave their homeland. Scribes would, though, yet there were not too many of them. Kon was equipped well enough - she had long sleeves, sturdy trousers and trusty high boots to get her through the worst of The Lost. She rubbed her hands together, feeling how cold it was, all of the sudden. She missed the warmth of Ashwer greatly. She rubbed one fang on the back of her hand-claw, feeling the uneven texture - a mix of leftover scales, patches of altered skin, and most of all - scars. She had to go through a lot to be accepted by Ashwerians, or, that is, she was required to undergo procedures if she wanted to live. They had no mercy, surgically removing scales from her whole body, one after another, with little concern about the Scribe’s feelings.

Her face then looked as if her old scales - which haven’t been removed yet - were invading her leathery, rough, scarred skin. From a proud dragon Ghoul, she was mutilated to look like a diseased Bastard. But life was good, and she still breathed. And, in fact, she was no Bastard - but an Ashwerian by law. At least they let her do whatever she wanted to her splendid dark hair.

“We must carry on, Scribe. Not much else we can do for those. The Bastards surely are uncultured beings. Just another piece of proof why there is no way on Soulslum that the First was a Bastard. What a disgusting concept,” Rain said, standing up.

They had been standing in front of several dug-up graves, the tombstones partially destroyed. Rotten golden leaves filled the empty holes which used to be dead ancestors’ last homes. The Ashwerians left, then, focused on their task. They had a long way ahead of them, according to their calculations.

 

“Chip, I was wondering, how long has it been since all the Bastard Bluebloods… disappeared?”

“Did they disappear?”

The Leech shuffled in a rather rugged, but still comfortable sofa. She looked up at her ghoul, confused.

“But I was asking a question?”

“There is no definite answer, my lady. The Bastard Bluebloods were quite rare, and perhaps still are - if we decide to believe they still are around. Many believe they disappeared hundreds of years ago. Maybe even way before that. Maybe not. Maybe the Bastard Bluebloods are not who we think they are. After all, it’s a rare case. Something made them special,” Chip explained. She was standing in front of her Leech, holding her usual journal.

“So, you don’t suppose we could have a Blueblood among the Bastards of Aeroz Plaz.”

“Unlikely. But it could just turn out that, after all, your kind are the Blueblood Bastards. Maybe not. Maybe the First was one.”

“Nonsense. The First was a Leech. Just like me, just like Ricky. Although… Hm. I don’t know. I’m a bit tired and I’m not sure what’s the big deal about the Bluebloods. Rick just seems so… unsatiated. Whatever,” Ann said, turning around on the sofa and climbing it a bit, standing on her knees, as she looked over it and through a small window - one of many in the mansion.

“No one knows anymore, my lady. It’s just another thing that we forget, and another thing that brings no profit, anyway.”

“I heard Scumburg’s going to nag us again. Don’t you think it was weird how those… things appeared in the tunnel?”

“Anything can happen, my lady. You shouldn’t worry about it,” Chip said, smiling so softly. So calm. She wanted her Leech to experience no worry. Ever.

One particularly noticeable thing about Chip Morax, Ann Galliard’s most noble Ghoul, accountant-treasurer, was her height. When not slouching, Ann was a woman of decent stature, yet the Ghoul was way, way taller than her. Perhaps, even the tallest Bastard in Aeroz Plaz would still feel rather small next to Chip, although not intimidated. She had a gentle, thoughtful soul - if Ghouls had those, anyway. The frightening part was that she was constantly hunched, possibly some weird habit she had. It meant she could only be larger, but no one had seen her that way.

Despite her overall etiquette, she looked very scruffy, and even fluffy - with messy hair sticking upwards in the middle, and dropping down at the sides, one golden horn sticking upwards, just slightly curved - but another one had been broken, long ago. Her ever-caring and attentive gaze of her thoughtful grey eyes followed every single little thing happening in Aeroz Plaz. Counting. Accounting for. Or, maybe, they were eyes full of fear, frightened to miss anything. Too scared to fail in the eyes of her Leech.

Like any resident of the fine town she knew to dress the part - a large grey capelet with fur at the collar and on the bottom, connected by a large golden button, from which several embroidered stripes wrapped around it all. The rest of her outfit, namely the warm coat underneath, was decorated with golden stripes illustrating both a circular labyrinth - displayed on her chest - and a rectangular one - shown all around the lower part of the clothing, bottomed with more white fur.

“I must go and see to the farms. If I may?” she asked her mistress.

“Go ahead. You’re dismissed. Of course you are.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Chip said, departing. Her steps could be heard around the mansion, her hooves clicking and clacking as she walked down the wooden floors of corridors and rooms.

Ann was left to keep staring through the window, overlooking the town she owned. It was an assortment of solid concrete building, brick barracks, only sometimes with added shacks made out of metal scrap - usually just utility buildings for several farms cared for in Aeroz Plaz. It was all surrounded by a large concrete and stone fence, adorned with crude barbed wire, spikes on one side and walkways on the others, for Shoulders to walk on.

It was honest there. It was safe. And life was good. Despite everything. Or so the usual Bastard would think, desperate for the feeling Aeroz Plaz gave them. It was ridiculous, but the place - despite its simplicity - became a legend among rare travellers, refugees, and others lost in The Lost. A town of wonders. Town of your dreams.

Once you were in, you could never leave. Unless you weren’t useful anymore. Many had found it appalling at first, but came to accept it later - it was a fair price to pay for security. Even though it also meant being watched, controlled at times, under pressure - but not the one that’d tear you apart like the Mad Ghouls in the forests.

Among well-fed, yet still grim citizens of Aeroz Plaz walked the Shoulders. Clad in found and repurposed armors of the old times - ranging from odd protective plastic pads for knees and elbows to heavy metal chest plates and greaves that looked like they were centuries old - those were the guardians of the town. They were chosen from the Bastards in Aeroz Plaz to defend the rest of their people, but also watch over and correct the mistakes. The name for this group came from the practice - at initiation, Rick Galliard always dipped his gloves in blackest of paints and pat his soldiers on the shoulders five times, staining them forever and making them Shoulders, his loyal guardians, the most privileged of all citizens in Aeroz Plaz - or so it seemed at first. Many rules held these men and women together. However, not many complained. Because it was safe, and it’s all that Bastards ever wanted.

There he was - walking with the large group of his soldiers alongside the wall, sometimes barking something at them, telling one or two of the Shoulders to detach and stay put. Setting up the perimeter. He put especially more of them at the gates and at the spots he knew were previously used to smuggle things in and out from the city. They were not used, anymore. Was no brave Bastard around to try.

Just as the younger Galliard was finishing his walk, somehow willingly chatting to a couple of Shoulders so nicely - a rare occurrence, which made them feel quite blessed, almost moved to tears - he heard something quite alarming. A shot, from a weapon, a firearm - yet it didn’t sound like an advanced one at all. He could feel a loud growl crawling up his chest, his throat. It flew out of his mouth as he rushed across town to the other gate, where he heard it.

 

“What did you motherfuckers fucking do, I curse you! You shit-brained fucking idiots, I’m coming, and you fucking better come up with an excuse…”

When he finally arrived, he saw a rather unpleasant sight - one of his Shoulders was lying on the ground, groaning and whining, holding onto his leg tightly, trying to cover a wound. Several more guardians stood next to him, their weapons ready - most of them automatic semi-automatic sidearms, the finest, well-preserved weapons that Rick had spent a long time acquiring in the past. All weapons were pointed at two strangers at the still locked cage cage. Apparently, the guardian was shot through it… whoever it was on the other side, she was a hasty shot. Rick slammed the handle of his cane into one of the Shoulders’ back and pointed at the wounded man, silently ordering to take care of him.

“Ah, I presume you must be their… employer?” the woman spoke up. She was standing still, holding her weapon - a well-maintained one, but an outdated one too - a flintlock pistol.

“You presume? You fucking brain-dead imbecile, you tin-can looking fucking moron, you just damaged my property! My! Fucking! Property! These Bastards are mine! Who gave you the fucking right to do it, you stinking sack of shit in a metal sleeve, you pathetic blue-haired… oh. Came for me, you Ashwerian scum, then?” he started off screaming, but then calmed down rather quickly, recognizing who the unwanted guest was.

“I apologize. I felt threatened. Moreover, I thought it was just one over there. Some bandit camp,” Rain clarified.

“You’re actually fucking brain-dead. I think I’m going to cry, out of pain of just enduring this. Talking to you. What do you fucking mean a bandit camp? Did you see the signs? The big mansion behind the walls? Did ash get in your eyes or something? You’d think after dragging your sorry asses over here, the cold winds of The Lost would’ve cleared your heads. Perhaps your skulls are too thick for anything to get in. You fucking idiots. Gods damn, you are so fucking stupid,” Rick went on another tirade.

“Again, I apologize. I didn’t come here for you. Neither did I think Bastards had civilized settlements.”

“Maybe you should take your eyes off that stupid Manual For Being A Dumb Fuck you disgusting zealots keep carrying around and start learning about the world,” Rick said, stomping on the ground angrily, gripping his cane.

“Do not insult the Ashwerian Old Hunt Compendium, you lawless heathen!” Kon spoke up, quite offended.

“Be quiet, Scribe! Our laws, sadly enough, do not work on these… poor individuals,” Rain ordered her Ghoul companion.

“Are you done jacking each other off? Can you fuck off now? You are ruining my night. I fucking hate you so much.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. I need to get to this town known as ‘Scumburg’,” Rain calmly explained, getting very close  to the cage gate. Rick did the same. He was quite shorter than the Ashwerian, so she looked down at him, yet didn’t look down on him. She could feel the horrifying power and anger the boy was practically oozing at that point. He was breathing heavily, his shoulders rising and falling, he kept sticking the tip of his cane into the soft ground below, stabbing it over and over.

“You come here. You fuck up my property. You try to enter my property. Then you ask me for shit. You’re fucking stupid. Do you have anything to offer? Anything at all, for me to look away this one time, let you pass through, maybe bring enough trouble to Scumburg that I don’t have to worry about their sorry asses anymore?” Rick asked her.

“You are so quick to change your mind, for profit?” Rain asked in return, smiling as she slowly put her weapon back into a holster on her belt.

“I don’t need a lecture on life from some fucked in the head idiot from Ashwer that thinks an old book written by some junkie scumfuck must dictate how she should live her life. Just. Show. Me. What. You. Fucking. Have. I know you fuckers love collecting shit off large Ghouls you off in the wild. Just so happens my sister has an Awakening day soon. She needs a good gift,” Rick was saying, his tone becoming much softer when he spoke of Ann.

The two argued, bargained and discussed something through the cage-gate for a long while, almost screaming at times, growling, promising to murder each other should the gates open. For two Leeches, it was rather ridiculous - they both were, without a doubt, strong enough to tear the gate apart and break through anyway. Kon stood aside rather awkwardly, trying to process the conversation. She was taught how to live by the book, and was way less adaptive than the Vanquisher. In fact, she felt - and was ashamed to feel - ridiculously afraid of the boy on the other side of the gate. People who made their own rules were dangerous.

In the end, Rick managed to get Rain to give him an Ashwerian talisman - a necklace made of rare Ghoul bone and even crystalized chunks of Mad Ghoul Sanguine. Undoubtedly, it took years to create that kind of item, and that rarity and preciousness was what mattered to Galliard. Rain felt rather upset to part with it, yet understood that she stood no chance trying to move through without permission. Taking on so many armed Bastards and their Leeches - who knew how many - wasn’t a simple task for the Vanquisher and her Scribe. Kon, however, tried to remain calm, despite wanting to feel so, so angry. To give up something as valuable and significant as that, in fact, was a violation of the Old Hunt Compendium, yet Vanquishers were allowed to bypass some restrictions when operating in field for the greater good of their people. It was also in the book. In fact, many things there conflicted with each other, but the Compendium also prohibited criticizing its codes…

“Alright. If I see you lay a hand on my property - any sort of it - again, without my clear permission, I will make your last days on Soulslum a nightmare, I fucking promise you that. And don’t surprise if my Shoulders will treat you the way you deserve to be treated for being a fuckhead. Alright, open the gate!” Rick commanded his guardians. The rusty cage gate slowly was pulled up and fixed in place to let the Ashwerian duo pass through.

Kon clutched the Compendium hanging off the chain on her waist. She looked around, disgusted, almost horrified, but could not show it. She had to remain calm - for her Vanquisher. At times, she couldn’t believe that Rain was also one of these odd people - a Leech. They were often so violent, erratic. Sicilienne was not.

“I must admit, your partner there is a pretty fucked-up sight. I knew you blue-hairs were crazy, but to torture a being so?” Rick suddenly asked, still fiddling with the necklace he’s been given.

“... you know nothing of Ashwer, then do not speak,” Rain responded, and sounded quite angry, seriously so. “Bastards are no better than the proud people of Ashwer. And, after all, as a slaver, what do you know about treating anyone right?”

“Well, I sure do know a lot about not fucking torturing my Bastards. I do not punish them for who they are. And I am not a bandit like the shitheads in Bloodfort. Can’t say the same about whatever you’ve been doing to that poor sod you keep with you. Does she even know who she is?” Rick asked, chuckling. To stir things up between Ashwerians had not been part of his plans at first, but he then realised it’d be funny to try.

“The Old Hunt Compendium tells of a sacred way to live, we inherited it from the First. the one and true First. It is simply how things must be. There is no discussion. We do the right thing, you do the wrong thing, it is easy. I don’t understand your concern, at all, and I’m not sure being forced to listen to you was part of our agreement. Just let us pass, get the manticore in Scumburg, then we’ll leave,” Rain explained how it all was, still quite upset by the way the boy perceived things.

“I mean, whatever. It’s not like we’re friends with them. You just kind of piss me off. Whatever. Just fuck off, quickly, I don’t wanna watch you here too long - I have places to be.”

Rain nodded and kept walking, sometimes looking back to make sure her Scribe followed. Kon’s face seemed rather stiff, but also attentive at the same time - and not a trace of forbidden emotions. Yet the mind was the only place where she could go against the Compendium - and so she did, when she heard the conversation between the Vanquisher and the Leech of Aeroz Plaz. She hated herself for it, but she couldn’t stop the thoughts. Was all that pain she had endured in the past necessary to live?

 

The middle of the night. The alarm clock had been lying on the floor for a while then, no one wanted to get up and get on with what they had the audacity to call living. Or, perhaps, they were just brave enough, or maybe even troubled.

Not all nights were the same, not all of them were rough awakenings, not all of them were plagued with cursed routine. Some of them were such: welcoming but tiresome, rather shameful but sweet. That time, Klein didn’t crawl from under the bed - she was, in fact, on top of the bed next to her Leech, wrapped in a thin blanket several times over, her clothes carelessly scattered around the creaky room. It hurt her a bit to see her belongings gathering dust and rubbing on it on the cold floor, but if it was to make Eve feel good - it was the right thing. Gremory slowly began wriggling out of the choke hold of the blanket - in fact, it was the Leech who so thoroughly wrapped it around her beloved Ghoul. Escaping the soft trap, Klein gradually exposed her body - all covered in rough scratches, noticeable bruises and bloody bite marks, especially her neck, shoulders and her back. She gave all of them a quick rub with her hand-claws, smiling to herself, almost tearing up, again, like a fool. Among noble Ghoul exiles and usual Bastards, she was one of the few who still retained the ability and willingness to shed tears, even if a bit excessive at times. Klein rubbed her own cheeks and her eyes, sighing deeply as she finally crawled out of the bed. She cried again, that morning when Eve brought her to bed. She couldn’t hold back tears of happiness at first, seeing her Leech like that, experiencing how close she was to her. But then, unexpectedly, the other thoughts intervened, taking advantage of how sensitive she was, making those tears grievous.

She put her clothes back on, making enough noise. Eve woke up, rolled around and looked at her Ghoul.

“What, you’re leaving so early?”

“I didn’t want to be trouble for you. You need to rest. We need to rest. I’ve been dragging you into things, my darling. You require it, the relaxation… erm,” Klein was explaining, stumbling around her own words, fixing some buttons of her coat.

“You don’t have to leave, you know. I don’t know why you think you should keep hiding. It’s kinda fucking stupid. You’re kinda fucking stupid. But…” Eve grumbled, rolling around in bed.

“I’m… I am sorry. I need some time, alone. Perhaps, we could visit the manticore tomorrow, if you so still wanted to consider her offer… but do not go without me, my dearest Eve, for I think it’s too dangerous outside nowadays. Something isn’t right,” Gremory explained. It was hard to talk, somehow.

“Uh. I guess. Whatever. I don’t really wanna hurry over there. Don’t give much of a shit, either. Well. Maybe a bit. Anyway. You’re kinda fucking my brains right here, I just woke up. Have some fucking mercy, you dumb ball of fur. Go see if granddad is still alive, unfortunately…” Staccato grumbled out her final opinion on it all, right before burying her face in a worn, thin pillow full of dust.

Everything was full of dust. The smallest of all, those bits got everywhere. The living, unfortunately - or, perhaps, thankfully - either forgot how to, or refused to clean it up. It became part of their existence. In all honesty, no one would call this life. Existence was good.

 

“This is ridiculous. Unthinkable. These beings… they were not supposed to be awakened. Or, at least, they’re not supposed to plague The Lost,” Kon said, dropping to her knees in order to closely inspect the little bodies lying on the cold floor of the dark tunnel. Sliced, diced, pierced, torn apart, ripped open, broken in half - the little people were all dead, but they didn’t go down without a fight - their weapons, thin needles, were either smashed to pieces, bent or coated in someone’s dried blood.

“Blefuscudians, you called them? I don’t remember mentions of such in the Compendium. Are you staining your clear mind with excessive knowledge, Scribe?” Rain sternly interrogated her Ghoul.

“No, no, you are… this is an accident. Accidental knowledge. I just so happened to hear it once, from an unruly Scribe back in Ashwer… these beings are ancient. Something is going on in The Lost. Without a doubt, without a doubt - I say - that manticore has something to do with it,” Kon made up excuses for her knowledge, and hastily tried to change the topic. Rain loved to be right.

“Indeed. Just as I’ve said before… very well. No need to dig around in their corpses, Scribe, get up and let us go,” she said, offering her hand to Kon. The Scribe stood up on her own, refusing to take the hand - and it pleased the Vanquisher. She often tested Kon, making sure she remembered her rules well.

Touching Rain was forbidden - a Ghoul wouldn’t be allowed to lay her filthy hands on a true Ashwerian. It was going to be a long way until Kon would really be somewhat accepted in their society. She had no choice, and she patiently waited for the opportunity, allowing the hunters to do anything to her, in order to get accepted. Kon never lost hope. She was similar to what Scribes usually were, she was an upstanding student and could also pass her knowledge onto others, she even excelled in parts where others physically could not - and it was also her curse. After all, a mediocre Ashwerian is pure, a hard-working Ghoul will always be a filthy Ghoul.

She wanted the scales gone. She would endure more, more pain - in fact, she had little to endure - that’s how used she got to it. But the list of things she’s learned didn’t end there. Kon could also tell when someone was spying on her, or talking about her behind her back. And strangely enough, she felt it strongly in Aeroz Plaz.

Deep down under the ground, they came across everything - pools of noble manticore blood, now so dried on stone floor, the tracks left behind by Staccato and her loyal Ghoul… the experienced hunter and her extremely potent Scribe made no mistake - they both knew what the scent and the marks of their target would be. Always. Soon enough, they reached the exit from the dark passage, on the side of Scumburg. Rain had no time to negotiate - they absolutely had to get the manticore. She slammed the gate to the tunnels open and exited, waiting for Kon to catch up. A guardian stationed next to the entrance got startled and pointed his weapon at the outlandishly dressed Ashwerian Vanquisher.

“W-who the fuck are you?! Are you from Aeroz Plaz?!” he asked, yelling.

Rain fixed the helmet on her head, then grabbed the goggles on it and pulled them down to cover her eyes.

“Keep quiet, Bastard. And put your weapon away. I’m carrying out my duty. Although mine overrules yours,” she explained, calmly, and reached for something in one of her pouches.

“Like fuck I will! Get your ass back into the tunnels and explain yourself! Did you hear me?!” the guardian argued, before something suddenly grabbed his face from behind.

Kon pressed her fingers onto the man’s eyes. The skin and the leftover scales on her hand-claws began to heat up, first just stinging, then practically boiling the man’s eyes, frying his skin where she touched him, pressing on hard, mercilessly. He couldn’t even retaliate, he could only scream - a toy in the hands of superior species. The Scribe felt no pride in what she did. Yet, better him than her.

Most bystanders ran away in fear, calling for the guardians. When the guardians realized who they were supposed to deal with, they decided to stay back cautiously, watching. In a way, some of them already had guessed why such dangerous people would come to their poor, miserable town. They saw their colleague drop to the ground, whimpering, holding onto his disfigured face, trying to cry but not managing to.

“I heard there is a manticore in town! Where does the manticore live, Bastards?” Rain asked, raising her hand up - she held a small explosive in it, with the fuse hanging from it. Her Scribe helped light it up. “I’ll toss this little thing here where I please, if you do not tell me.”

They were fast to respond, all pointing towards the house where June lived, the Leech of Scumburg, who had also recently pacted with not one, but two Ghouls.

“Fascinating. What loyalty!” Rain said, then hurled the bomb at the doorstep of the house in question. It soon blew up, making part of the facade crumble, breaking the door into pieces.

Soon, Rex walked out of the house, quite agile, stepping over the rubble, going through the smoke, her eyes locked at the attackers right as soon as she spotted them. She raised her hand and pointed her finger at Rain.

“Ey. You. You fucked up my house, didn’t you, brother?” she asked, rather calmly. At that point, most of the Bastards around hid behind houses, in alleyways, hoping they could see, but not be seen.

“... Kon, read the verdict,” Rain said, furrowing her eyebrows, quite distressed. The manticore in her Bastard form wasn’t a sight she had seen often. It was… frightening.

“Ahem! Listen carefully, filthy Ghoul, damned manticore! By the ancient code 64.A.F.1 of the Old Hunt Compendium: an Ashwerian’s life is always more valuable than life of a Bastard. Code 64.A.F.2: the life of a Bastard is only more valuable than a Ghoul’s life if said Bastard is beneficial to an Ashwerian. Code 64.A.F.3: anything threatening the life of an Ashwerian must be eliminated. Code 100.D.S.0: manticore is the sign of the Hunt’s End. Code 1.A.F.1: an Ashwerian is nothing without the Old Hunt,” she recited, then took a deep breath. “Damned manticore, we have come here to end your threat to Ashwer.”

Rex stood still, rubbing her boots on the rubble below a bit, thinking. She then said:

“So, you burned that guy’s eyes out because he tried to help me? You’re a mean matriarchfucker, brother. That Bastard is my sworn soldier.”

“Is that so? For all of your sworn Bastards betrayed you, showing where you live!” Rain laughed.

“They’re just scared. Scared, just like I was. I’m not afraid anymore, brother, I guarantee you that. If you think you can go around doing shit like that on my watch, you’re dead wrong. Now, get ready, because I’m not holding b-” Rex was about to finish the sentence, when she felt something sting her really hard in the shoulder. Grabbing it with her hand-claw, she felt that blood started dripping out.

 

Her enemy lowered a flintlock pistol.

“What’s this? You’re throwing pebbles at me? You fucked up…” Rex muttered.

Rain began to reload, thinking her opponent was all talk. Before she could react, Rex had already spread her wings, jumped up into the air and hung there. In one of her hands, she held a rebar stick with some concrete still stuck on its end, like a large hammer. The circles in her dark eyes shone bright yellow as her body slowly got infused with electricity - the dark clouds above gathering and swirling around as the long-preserved lightning strikes hiding within them suddenly granted their power to the manticore. Her tail was twisting, behind her back, almost oozing poison. The wings held her high up, swinging, then guided her with the wind, swiftly down, aiming for the Ashwerian.

“Kon, cover!” Rain called out to her Scribe. The loyal Ghoul was happy to follow orders, as she pulled out a large cape from a pack that was hanging on the Vanquisher’s belt behind her back, then swiftly put it over her armour. It was apparently made out of Ghoul leather, one that wouldn’t let electricity pass through - as an experienced hunter, Rain knew how to adapt. 

Sicilienne also grabbed the wounded guardian and picked him up from the ground, holding the sword to his throat. She was hoping the Manticore would cease the attack if presented with such sight… instead, as Rex got closer, Rain felt something sting her in the side - or, that is, penetrate her armor, then latch onto it and toss her away. The manticore’s tail acted like an additional limb, even stronger than the two arms. She still held her weapon, but also let the wounded Bastard rest on her other arm.

“I’ll get you out, brother. Troz!” Rex called out to her partner. Her dapper-looking soldier soon appeared, all three heads rather distressed that the manticore decided to fight alone.

“My lady! You’re supposed to leave fighting to me!”

“No, Troz. The Bastards must know their leader now. Everyone must know. Even these two. Now, take this man, bring him to safety and make sure the local healer sees to his wounds. Later, we will talk. Now, I will act, brother,” Rex explained, almost growling at times, through her teeth - so genuinely enraged at the audacity of the Ashwerian’s actions.

When Troz finally got away, Rex looked at the Scribe - who stood dumbfound - then at the Vanquisher, who just got up from a pile of rubble she was flung into. Rex also felt something weird - a connection of sorts, to the lost-looking one, one holding the thick book of rules that had been forced onto her. And Kon felt it too, although she tried to kill the feeling as soon as possible. Another sensation remained, however. A chilling one.

“Kon! What are you doing, standing there like that, you traitor! Smite the damn thing! Now! Immediately! I will have you brought to the Old Hunt Justiciars!” Rain screamed at the Scribe, brandishing her weapon as she slowly approached the manticore from the back.

Kon tried to concentrate. All Scribes were gifted - they said - with powers to wield fire and light to smite their enemies. Apparently, Kon exceeded all expectations. She never knew how real Ashwerians did it, but turning things to ash was not only the way to fight, but something sacred to the Scribes. Yet at that time, when the manticore stared her down, Kon felt as if something reached inside her, and held the strings that the Ashwerians had planted into her. It didn’t let her protest. Didn’t let her betray her own self anymore.

“You. Damn. Traitor! I will deal with this myself!” Rain roared, raising her sword. It clashed with the manticore’s tail again and again, the hunter apparently underpowered to deal with the Ghoul. Despite that, Rex still decided to give battle to the preposterous knight. She suddenly swung the crude hammer - it was met with the polished surface of the Ashwerian’s shield, which cracked and dented severely at the impact.

“What are you going to do? Shoot me again? Are you going to catch me and rip my scales off, you fucking disgusting piece of shit? Chastise me? Make sure I never feel like my own self again? You are pathetic. It’s a shame I must smear my hands in shit like you…” Rex was rambling, pressing on, almost crushing Rain under the weight of the hammer and her strength combined. The hunter took a knee, still holding the shield up. Then, suddenly, Sicilienne struck with her sword, stabbing the manticore in the side. She hastily rolled away, leaving the weapon stuck in the Ghoul.

Laughing, Rex reached for the sword, took it by the blade and tried to pull it out. Unfortunately, it cracked where she gripped it, half of it still inside her.

“Why won’t you just… die… you horrible monster…” Rain muttered, crawling backwards. She reached for her pistol again, just as Rex seemed to stand still with her eyes closed for some while. Suddenly, a strong torrent of blood pushed the blade out of the wound, making it almost fly out of her body. Noble blood was everywhere, feeding the dry soil of Scumburg.

“You picked the wrong fucking fight, brother. Now, time to meet your shithead ancestors,” Rex said, raising her crude hammer up above her head.

 

A chilling roar spread across town. It sounded like crying. One would think it’s the Vanquisher, screaming as she is being smashed to bits by the manticore. But they stood motionless, breathless, simply absent. None of them could feel, none of them could see or hear anything around themselves. At that moment, not one bit of their body actually felt as if it existed in the world. Their minds were locked in dreams… except the mind of the blinded guardian. Or, at least, his - which was taken from him - suddenly returned, or so he thought, thanking the violent gods of fate, Soulslum, the earth under his feet and dark skies above. Then he realized he could only see the freezing cold, the chilling wind, the horrifying feeling of being watched, the presence of something that isn’t really there.

A figure walked from behind one of the houses, seemingly sobbing - or so were the sounds that the blinded man could see. She was wearing a long jacket, grey-blue, but very, very pale - perhaps it’d lost its original look long time ago. In some bits of it, it even seemed as if some nasty creatures ate through it, or maybe it slowly rotted on its own, the feeble threads tearing. Washed out colours. The head of the wanderer was covered with a dark cowl, hiding most of it, yet exposing greying icy hair - it looked as if its strands were so, so close to simply falling out.

She slowly shuffled her feet on the ground, leaving a cold trail behind, getting closer and closer to where the fight had been going on. Only then did the blind man finally see - it was no ordinary Bastard, not even a Leech, not the worst Ghouls of all - it was Grief. An ancient encounter, a story that existed to frighten Bastard children into holding back their tears. An incarnate of Grief was someone who once didn’t hold back, or couldn’t hold back their tears, showed their weakness or great strength, and paid the most horrifying price of all. With the tears dried, the Grief would cry out their blood, all of the fluids, and would then reduce themselves to a dry husk of rotting skin and clean bone.

This particular one must had been severe. She had no skin at all, her jaw bone was gone, the eye holes in her skull were cracked, almost forming into one large hole instead. The remains of the Grief’s body were carried on by many things, or so Bastards believed: hatred, devotion, love, sorrow. The being was free to do whatever once it lost everything because of grieving.

With one ruined hand she held onto a rusty scythe. With another, she clutched a torn, rugged pale yellow cloth wrapped around where her neck once were. Shaking, trembling, she kept shuffling on, cold winds blowing in and out of her destroyed body, snow falling from her fingertips, ice forming under her feet.

The blind man simply hoped the Grief didn’t come for his tears. He was too frightened to even remember that he had been robbed of them.

The Grief first approached the three: the Ashwerian, the manticore, and the Ghoul Scribe. She looked at them all, but stopped only at the sight of Kon. She let out an especially malicious frosty chuckle as her bony hand reached towards the Scribe and passed through her chest. She grasped something within and suddenly pulled back, ripping a chunk out of Kon. Blood was flowing out of the large wound, hitting the frosty ground below.

It was horrifying, but at least she didn’t come for him. He sighed, or thought he did. He saw her looking at him. The large, broken eye holes with immeasurable darkness within still held two stuttering blue circles. Without a doubt, this Grief once used to be a Ghoul. She stared at him, and raised the hand with the piece of Kon’s Sanguine, but also raised one finger up. She laughed, and to him her voice sounded like a broken melody coming out of an abused, half-destroyed music box.

One.

First.

The First.


	5. Reader’s Compendium #1

 

**This chapter was written to share author’s thoughts and ideas on the fanfic, and also recap some of the information from past chapters. The purpose is to help remember what means what, who is who, and just share some fun facts.**

**The descriptions and explanations (of terms, towns and people in the fanfic) below are based on what you know as a reader - you may find out way more later on. This isn’t a final explanation, but a recap.**

 

**Contents:**

  1. Terminology
  2. Places and people
  3. Lost ideas
  4. To sum up



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  1. **Terminology**



Some terms are similar to those in the canon HEARTBEAT, although not all of them.

 **Bastard** \- a Bastard is a humanoid inhabitant of planet Soulslum. The word ‘human’ isn’t used on Soulslum. Bastards live miserable lives in The Lost, struggling to survive, to stay safe. They often form small tribes, or try to establish towns to make survival easier. Bastards are often guarded or controlled by one or more Leeches - and usually have no choice but to agree to be ruled by those. Bastards possess no special abilities. Bastards teach their children from their very first days to endure pain and to never show weakness. (Based on canon HEARTBEAT Solum Humans)

 **Bastard Blueblood** \- a particular kind of Bastard, a descendant of ancient noble Bastard families of Soulslum. Some believe Bastard Bluebloods may, in fact, just be Leeches. It is thought that Bastard Bluebloods have the most delicious blood that can make Leeches go insane from happiness.

 

 **Leech** \- a Leech is a rare type of Bastard. The birth of a Leech is believed to be connected to something running in Bastard blood, sometimes manifesting in offsprings. It is thought to be both a curse and a blessing on Soulslum. A Leech is essentially a vampire (in Earth terms) that possesses abnormal strength, ages way slower, has the ability to regenerate, but is vulnerable to sunlight and must drink blood to survive. They usually drink blood of Bastards or Ghouls. Leeches also can form a pact with a sane Ghoul to exchange power and enhance their abilities. Leeches are rare, therefore if a Leech lives in a town in The Lost, the Bastards know them quite well. Leeches often think that they are superior beings, compared to Bastards and Ghouls. (Based on canon HEARTBEAT Conjurers)

 

 **Ghoul** \- a creature that possesses shapeshifting abilities, but also may be capable of much more, depending on their kind. Mad Ghouls inhabit all of Soulslum, and only care about their own survival. They’re not capable of pacting with Leeches, and will not negotiate with Bastards. There are too many types of Ghouls to try and categorize them. Some types are more common, some are extremely rare - and therefore known by the Bastards all across The Lost. (Based on canon HEARTBEAT Feral Mogwai)

 **Noble Ghoul** \- sometimes just ‘Ghoul’ (without mentioning Madness) is a Ghoul capable of reasoning, capable of pacting with a Leech and negotiating with Bastards. Exiled Mogwai often refer to each other as ‘Noble’ in order to make a compliment, despite the fact they do not possess any titles upon getting Exiled from the Pit. These kinds of Ghouls often shapeshift to look like Bastards, although they cannot completely replicate the look of them. Pitch black eyes with coloured circles within them is a trait all Ghouls possess. Example: Klein Gremory: “Noble cerberus! Recognize, as one of the Pit’s finest speaks to you now…” - Ch. 2. (Based on canon HEARTBEAT Mogwai)

 **Exiled Ghoul** \- any Ghoul that lived in the Pit, but either left it or was driven out of it. Example: Klein Gremory: “Sometimes, there isn’t even enough time to be afraid, before something happens to you, exile Naberius. It’s been a long time since I’ve left the Pit…” - Ch. 2. (Based on canon HEARTBEAT Mogwai)

 **Ghoul queen** \- also named Noble Matriarch by Rex Kimaris in Ch. 3, apparently is the ruler of all Ghouls in the Pit at that time. (Based on canon HEARTBEAT Mogwai Queen)

 

 **Blefuscudians** \- legendary beings, long gone and hidden somewhere in the depths of Soulslum, presumably stuck between The Lost and the Pit. It is assumed they are the species from which Bastards originated, or perhaps they shared a common ancestor. Some believe they were exiled to live underground, unwanted. They are very small, and share one noticeable trait - bloodshot eyes, almost crimson with blood. They usually stab their prey to death with thick needles. In BLOODBEAT, they were found infesting an underground tunnel between Scumburg and Aeroz Plaz. (Based on canon HEARTBEAT Gnomes from Chumburg, name taken from the 1726 novel Gulliver’s Travel by Jonathan Swift)

 

 **Ashwerian** \- a Bastard born within Ashwer terriory. It is a realm of constant bureaucratic torture, hierarchical confusion, its whole existence based on the Ashwerian Old Hunt Compendium, a document consisting of so many rules, laws, remarks and notes that it’s barely possible for a simple Bastard to remember. Ashwerians think they are better than Bastards of The Lost. Ashwerians have blue hair and are merciless towards those who oppose them. Their stubborness apparently held them back in their progress, although kept them safe from outside influence. (Based on canon HEARTBEAT Snowverian)   
Ashwerian Vanquisher - apparently an Ashwerian Bastard who was trained to hunt down dangerous Ghouls and other enemies of Ashwer. Usually accompanied by an Ashwerian Scribe. Known Vanquisher: Rain Sicilienne.

 **Ashwerian Scribe** \- an Ashwerian Bastard scholar who studies the Ashwerian Old Hunt Compendium and assists Ashwerian Vanquishers or others in their line of duty. Zealots. They are not allowed to feel emotions, they are not allowed to have opinions, they must be fully dedicated to being the mouthpiece for the Ashwerian Old Hunt Compendium. Scribes also, apparently, either innately possess or are taught the skill of conjuring fire and wiedling it. The only known exception is Kon, an Ashwerian Scribe who is also a Ghoul.

 

 **Shoulders** \- Bastards chosen to be guardians of the town in Aeroz Plaz. The ceremony of initiation includes one of the town’s Leeches, Rick Galliard, dipping his gloves in black paint and smearing it on the soldiers’ shoulders. They are loyal to their young master.

 

 **Sanguine** \- a mysterious organ that all Ghouls possess. Parts of it can be stolen (Example: “She stared at him, and raised the hand with the piece of Kon’s Sanguine, but also raised one finger up.” - Ch. 4.), but the Ghoul will still leave. It’s both the Ghoul’s heart, possible soul and even brain, to a certain extent. If the Sanguine is badly damaged, the Ghoul may finally die. (Based on canon HEARTBEAT Mogwai Core)

 

 **Flesh** \- forming the Flesh basically means reproducing, amongst Ghouls. (Based on canon HEARTBEAT Mogwai Egg)

 

 **Matriarch/Patriarch** \- Ghoul word for mother and father. They are incapable of saying it otherwise, for reasons unknown.

 

 **The First** \- a legendary figure. Ashwerians believe that the First was an Ashwerian who also granted them the Old Hunt Compendium. Some may assume that the First was a Bastard Blueblood, a rare noble of the old times. Leeches are usually convinced the First was a Leech, the first brave one to make a meaningful pact with a noble Ghoul. It is possible that the Grief (Ch. 4) knows something about the First. Based on canon HEARTBEAT ???)

 

 **Manticore** \- a very powerful type of Ghoul, which also is quite rare and is mentioned in the Ashwerian Old Hunt Compendium. Known: Rex Kimaris. Example: “Code 100.D.S.0: manticore is the sign of the Hunt’s End…”

 

 **The Grief** \- a legendary being. It is believed that a Bastard or a Ghoul may become an incarnate of Grief (Example: “An incarnate of Grief was someone who once didn’t hold back, or couldn’t hold back their tears, showed their weakness or great strength, and paid the most horrifying price of all. With the tears dried, the Grief would cry out their blood, all of the fluids, and would then reduce themselves to a dry husk of rotting skin and clean bone” - Ch. 4.). Bastards usually frighten their children by promising that the Grief will come to take their tears if they show weakness and cry. As of Ch. 4, it is apparently real, and its abnormal abilities can only be seen by either those blinded, or those physically incapable of crying. (Based on canon HEARTBEAT Reaper)

 

 **Ashwerian Old Hunt Compendium** \- an ancient Ashwerian document that had been written, rewritten, rewritten, rewritten and rewritten… The whole existence of Ashwer is based on it. It consists of so many rules, laws, remarks and notes that it’s barely possible for a simple Bastard to remember.

**Known codes:**

Code 1.A.F.1: an Ashwerian is nothing without the Old Hunt.

Code 22.A.F.1 of the Old Hunt Compendium: one has right for proper burial.

Code 22.A.F.5: burial sites are to be preserved.

Code 22.A.F.6: it is our duty to tread the dead like the living.

Code 55.A.F.234 of the Old Hunt Compendium: shoot the messenger.

Code 64.A.F.1: an Ashwerian’s life is always more valuable than life of a Bastard.

Code 64.A.F.2: the life of a Bastard is only more valuable than a Ghoul’s life if said Bastard is beneficial to an Ashwerian.

Code 64.A.F.3: anything threatening the life of an Ashwerian must be eliminated.

Code 100.D.S.0: manticore is the sign of the Hunt’s End.

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  1. **Places and people**



**2.1 Places:**

 

 **Soulslum** \- the damned planet. (Based on canon HEARTBEAT Solum)

 

 **The Lost** \- how Bastards and Ashwerian usually refer to the landmass housing settlements from Duskwich to Bloodfort. Inhabited mostly by Bastards, some of it by Ashwerian colonists. (Based on canon HEARTBEAT Piecewood)

 

 **Duskwich** \- a small town where  Leech Eve Staccato, Bastard Liang Staccato, Ghoul Klein Gremory live. Liang Staccato has gone mad long time ago, Eve Staccato and her loyal pacted ghoul Klein Gremory defend the town from any danger. (Based on canon HEARTBEAT Sunwich)

 

 **Corpsewood** \- woods outside of Duskwich, which lead to Scumburg. Apparently, it used to be called Corona Woods, or it could be that Choi Yumisun confused its name in Ch. 1. (Based on canon HEARTBEAT Corona Woods)

 

 **Scumburg** \- a cooperative town defended by Bastards on their own. Leech June Sanjo lives there together with Ghoul Rex Kimaris and Ghoul Troz Naberius. Bastards inhabit it. It has a tunnel that connects it to Aeroz Plaz. The Bastard town guardian blinded by Scribe Kon in Ch. 4 is a Scumburg native. (Based on canon HEARTBEAT Solburg)

 

 **Aeroz Plaz** \- a prosperous (compared to others) town ruled by Leech Rick Galliard and Leech Ann Galliard, assisted by Ghoul Chip Morax. Chip Morax is pacted with Ann Galliard. Any Bastard that seeks shelter in Aeroz Plaz may stay, but can never leave. Technically, Aeroz Plaz is a town ran by slave owners, although the Galliard Leeches are known to be rather just with the Bastards under their rule and resent excessive punishment. Their slaves are kept in both by love (provided by Ann) and fear (provided by Rick). (Based on canon HEARTBEAT Aeros)

 

 **Bloodfort** \- according to Rick Galliard in Ch. 4, it is a slaver settlement in The Lost, where Bastards are usually tortured. (Based on canon HEARTBEAT Bowfort)

 

 **The Pit, The Ghoul Throne** \- apparently a place where Noble Ghouls live under the rule of the Ghoul queen. Known past residents: Klein Gremory, Troz Naberius, Rex Kimaris. (Based on canon HEARTBEAT Den)

 

 **Ashwer** \- see Ashwerian in part 1 - Terms. (Based on canon HEARTBEAT Snowver)

 

**2.2 People**

 

 **Eve Staccato** \- the Leech of Duskwich. She is mean, doesn’t care about anything but herself and her Ghoul, and perhaps her town. She is rude, cruel, loves to fight and also enjoys bullying her Ghoul, Klein Gremory. Eve may be quite straightforward, blunt, at times awful, but she cares deeply about her Ghoul, and - in fact - loves her more than anything. Despite not announcing it publicly, Eve and her Ghoul are apparently very, very close and intimate when alone. Eve is a fan of a rare remaining band in The Lost called Begging4Mercy lead by Patch Godunov. Weapon: spear-staff.

Author’s note: _her outfit was altered to make her look less lively and more gloomy._

  
  


**Klein Gremory** \- the Ghoul pacted with the Leech of Duskwich, Eve Staccato. She is a well-mannered, sensitive person, deeply in love with her Leech. She is protective of her. Gremory usually adores adventures with her Leech. It seems she has a past she had never told her Leech about. She is in an intimate relationship with Eve Staccato as well. Apparently one of the few people who doesn’t hide their emotions, or has a hard time doing so. Weapon: jagged rapier.

Author’s note: _she’s practically Klein Gremory from Ending D in canon HEARTBEAT, because she is simply perfect. In fact, most designs for BLOODBEAT versions of Ghouls (Mogwai) are sort of Ending D-ish versions of them. Remember the eyes?_

 

 **Liang Staccato** \- the grandfather of Eve Staccato, the Leech of Duskwich. He has gone mad and doesn’t realize what is actually going on around him. Weapon: his ro-bit body.

Author’s note: _he can’t move without the ro-bits he’s been fused with. Inspiration was the likes of Yagrum Bagarn from TES III: Morrowind._

 

 **Choi Yumisun** \- an elderly Leech who has recently arrived in Corpsewood. She had apparently discovered an odd creature and wanted to show it to Eve Staccato, but the Leech of Duskwich dismissed her. She’s most likely pacted with an odd, rodent-like Ghoul who doesn’t assume her Bastard form. Weapon: two-handed sword.

Author’s note: _she’s a bit informal and quirky compared to other characters. Definitely one of the “saturated” ones in design. She’s kind of sunny, that’s one of the reasons Eve didn’t want to bother talking to her. An old lady also reminded her of her grandfather._

 

 **June Sanjo** \- a Leech obsessed with documenting the life of Ghouls. She is also apparently a pervert, any interactions with Ghouls seemingly a turn-on for her. Pacted with Rex Kimaris and Troz Naberius, but effectively ignored by them and avoided during intimate hours. Weapon: none, perhaps her camera.

Author’s note: _she let it all go and only indulges in her desires. No one desires her, though. Her appearance implies that she always tries to interact with Ghouls forcefully._

  
 **Troz Naberius** \- a Ghoul sworn to protect Rex Kimaris. She used to be a guardian, a soldier, possibly used to have a rank before she self-exiled herself to follow Rex. She is rather optimistic, although her three heads often disagree with each other. She is fond of Rex Kimaris, and is quite possibly intimate with her. Weapon: combat bracers.

Author’s note: _she has three heads even in her Bastard form, which is really cool. She’s clean, dapper, cute like no one else, very handsome - fresh from the Pit._

 

 **Rex Kimaris** \- a Ghoul that had escaped from the Pit to seek allies in order to carry out her revenge. She is a true noble, royalty, a bastard daughter of the Ghoul king and his lover, apparently. Despises her “false matriarch”, the Ghoul queen. Is very fond of Troz Naberius and offered to form the Flesh with her. Weapon: anything that resembles a hammer.

Author’s note: _she is very cool, brother. She wears a lot of belts because I thought it’d be very cool. Her design was significantly improved by my friend, Sava._

 

 **Rick Galliard** \- a Leech that owns the town of Aeroz Plaz together with his sister, Leech Ann Galliard. He seemingly isn’t pacted with any Ghoul in Ch. 1-4, although apparently he used to be. No one knows the real story of the Ghoul’s demise, but Rick preserved his skull with the golden horns, and wears it as a mask. Rick is aggressive, speaks in the most foul way, and only cares about the prosperity of his town and the safety and happiness of his sister. Rules with fear. Prefers to drink blood from live “cattle” Bastards. Considers Leeches superior species. Weapon: cane, his guardians known as “Shoulders”.

Author’s note: _personal favourite. Just like his sister, he’s dressed in very warm clothes - Aeroz Plaz is cold, The Lost is cold, and the residents of this particular town don’t want to freeze to death. Rick is, without a doubt, quite awful, but he is surprisingly decent compared to some other Leeches in The Lost._

 

 **Ann Galliard** \- a Leech that owns the town of Aeroz Plaz together with her brother, Leech Rick Galliard. She’s pacted with Ghoul Chip Morax. She is very lazy, passive, sleeps often, never drank blood from a living being, only from a glass. Is constantly pampered and cared for by her younger brother and her Ghoul Chip. The Bastard slaves in Aeroz Plaz love her quite a bit for her very calm personality, compared to Rick. She doesn’t necessarily love them back, she simply is too lazy to care. Weapon: Chip Morax.

Author’s note: _just like Rick, she’s dressed very warm, in clothes like a merchant of the old days would wear. Exquisite. A lot of layers. She’s also chubby and very handsome, apparently. Rick would probably destroy anything for her. Ann, though? Probably would be too lazy to actually do anything, but that’s alright._

 

 **Chip Morax** \- a Ghoul that works as an accountant-treasurer of Aeroz Plaz, pacted with Leech Ann Galliard. She does whatever Ann wouldn’t. She is extremely loyal, although her intentions and wishes are not clear. Apparently, she knows quite a bit too. Rick’s Ghoul, who had passed away, was her brother. Weapon: labrys.

Author’s note: _it’s implied one of her horns serves as a handle for Rick’s cane, but we’re not sure why. Maybe it was just an accident? She’s large, by the way. She is absolutely massive. Definitely dangerous._

 

 **Rain Sicilienne** \- an Ashwerian Vanquisher, also believed to be a Leech. She works with Kon, a Ghoul Scribe. Supposedly, they’re pacted. Appears to be rather strict and determined, perhaps even overconfident, despite being quite experienced. Weapon: sword and shield, flintlock pistol, bombs.

Author’s note: _she’s wearing one of those french colonial infantry helmets, kept the goggles of her from the canon HEARTBEAT. She may be one of the most down-to-earth characters in the fanfic, although still rather exaggerated in her stubbornness and devotion to rules of the odd country of Ashwer._

 

 **Kon** \- a Ghoul Ashwerian Scribe. Apparently quite knowledgeable, excelled in her studies of the Ashwerian Old Hunt Compendium, also had an innate ability for wielding fire - much more potent than non-Ghoul Ashwerian Scribes. She is shunned by Ashwerians, and they have been working on forcefully removing the scales from her body, trying to make her look more presentable for their society. It is an extremely painful process. Kon, like other Scribes, is just a mouthpiece for the Old Hunt Compendium. Her origin, however, makes her doubt the position so much more. Weapon: fire, knowledge.

Author’s note: _the inspiration for her outfit is a combination between a French cardinal and a musketeer combined, around 17th century. Initially, I thought she’d be all chained, dragged around by Rain, and also completely bald. Went for something a bit more elegant. Also, no sight of wings - you’d think she’d have some…_

 

 **Grief** \- a mysterious legendary being, fulfilling some unknown purpose. She apparently knows something of the First.

Author’s note: _nothing as fun as a walking skeleton. I thought that would be very cool. I like her a lot. Nothing else to say._

 

 **Blessed Clause** \- in Ch. 1 this person is mentioned by Eve and Klein. Whoever Blessed Clause is, this individual is believed to be bringing presents during the Season of Cold. Eve believes in Blessed Clause, although it's mostly recognized as a fairy tale, a made up story.

Author's note: _I thought Eve believing in Santa Claus would be funny._

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  1. **Lost ideas**



 

  * Choi and June were added to the fanfic spontaneously, were not planned at first
  * Rex was planned to die in the underground tunnels between Scumburg and Aeroz Plaz, right after forming the Flesh with Troz.
  * June was also, alternatively, supposed to be murdered right after pacting.
  * Aeroz Plaz was first planned as a town full of greediest Bastards, not slaves under Rick and Ann.
  * First idea for Rick had Blitz’s head tied to his back, reanimated and sustained.
  * Kon was planned to be completely bald, malnourished. Brainwashed, chained to Rain and used as a weapon or a living shield.
  * Rain and Rick were supposed to fight. Rain was also, alternatively, supposed to fight Eve.
  * Nyx wasn’t supposed to appear so early on, it was a spontaneous thing.
  * Shep was supposed to appear in Aeroz Plaz early on.
  * I tried to come up with some funny bits to write for this extra thing, but somehow putting these versions of characters in funny situations made them... not funny. Didn't laugh.



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  1. **To sum up**



 

I’ve been really enjoying writing this, and I hope you like what you read. Hope this recap was helpful to some.


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